Chapter 4

"Here we are again, war or no war!" cried Mother De Smet, as the boat came alongside. Father De Smet left the tiller and threw a rope ashore. "Whoa!" cried the boy driving the mule. The mule stopped with the greatest willingness, the boy caught the rope and lifted the great loop over a strong post on the river-bank, and the "Old Woman" for that was the name of the boat was in port.

Soon a gangplank was slipped from the boat to the little wooden steps on the bank, and Mother De Smet, with a squirming baby under each arm, came ashore. "I do like to get out on dry land and shake my legs a bit now and then," she said cheerfully as she greeted Granny. "On the boat I just sit still and grow fat!"

"I shake my legs for a matter of ten miles every day," laughed Granny. "That's how I keep my figure!"

Mother De Smet set the babies down on the grass, where they immediately began to tumble about like a pair of puppies, and she and Granny talked together, while the Twins went to watch the work of Father De Smet and the boy, whose name was Joseph.

"I don't know whatever the country is coming to," said Mother De Smet to Granny. "The Germans are everywhere, and they are taking everything that they can lay their hands on. I doubt if we ever get our cargo safe to Antwerp this time. We've come for a load of potatoes, but I am very much afraid it is going to be our last trip for some time. The country looks quiet enough as you see it from the boat, but the things that are happening in it would chill your blood."

"Yes," sighed Granny; "if I would let it, my old heart would break over the sights that I see every day on my way to Malines. But a broken heart won't get you anywhere. Maybe a stout heart will."

"Who are the children you have with you?" asked Mother De Smet.

Then Granny told her how she had found Jan and Marie, and all the rest of the sad story. Mother De Smet wiped her eyes and blew her nose very hard as she listened.

"I wouldn't let them wait any longer by the Antwerp road, anyway," she said when Granny had finished. "There is no use in the world in looking for their mother to come that way. She was probably driven over the border long ago. You just leave them with me to-morrow while you go to town. 'Twill cheer them up a bit to play with Joseph and the babies."

"Well, now," said Granny, "if that isn't just like your good heart!"

And that is how it happened that, when she trudged off with her barrow the next morning, the Twins ran down to the boat and spent the day rolling on the grass with the babies, and helping Father De Smet and Joseph to load the boat with bags of potatoes which had been brought to the dock in the night by neighboring farmers.

When Granny came trundling her barrow home in the late afternoon, she found the children and their new friends already on the best of terms; and that night, after the Twins were in bed, she went aboard the "Old Woman" and talked for a long time with Father and Mother De Smet. No one will ever know just what they said to each other, but it must be that they talked about the Twins, for when the children awoke the next morning, they found Granny standing beside their bed with their clothes all nicely washed and ironed in her hands.

"I'm not going to town this morning with my eels," she said as she popped them out of bed. "I'm going to stay at home and see you off on your journey!" She did not tell them that things had grown so terrible in Malines that even she felt it wise to stay away.

"Our journey!" cried the Twins in astonishment. "What journey?"

"To Antwerp," cried Granny. "Now, you never thought a chance like that would come to you, I'm sure, but some people are born lucky! You see the De Smets start back today, and they are willing to take you along with them!"

"But we don't want to leave you, dear, dear Granny!" cried the Twins, throwing their arms about her neck.

"And I don't want you to go, either, my lambs," said Granny; "but, you see, there are lots of things to think of. In the first place, of course you want to go on hunting for your mother. It may be she has gone over the border; for the Germans are already in trenches near Antwerp, and our army is nearer still to Antwerp and in trenches, too. There they stay, Father De Smet says, for all the world, like two tigers, lying ready to spring at each other's throats. He says Antwerp is so strongly fortified that the Germans can never take it, and so it is a better place to be in than here. The De Smets will see that you are left in safe hands, and I'm sure your mother would want you to go." The children considered this for a moment in silence.

At last Jan said, "Do you think Father De Smet would let me help drive the mule?"

"I haven't a doubt of it," said Granny.

"But what about Fidel, our dear Fidel?" cried Marie.

"I tell you what I'll do;" said Granny. "I'll take care of Fidel for you! You shall leave him here with me until you come back again! You see, I really need good company, and since I can't have you, I know you would be glad to have Fidel stay here to protect me. Then you'll always know just where he is."

She hurried the children into their clothes as she talked, gave them a good breakfast, and before they had time to think much about what was happening to them, they had said good-bye to Fidel, who had to be shut in the cottage to keep him from following the boat, and were safely aboard the "Old Woman" and slowly moving away down the river. They stood in the stern of the boat, listening to Fidel's wild barks, and waving their hands, until Granny's kind face was a mere round speck in the distance.

X

ON THE TOW-PATH

When they could no longer see Granny, nor hear Fidel, the children sat down on a coil of rope behind the cabin and felt very miserable indeed. Marie was just turning up the corner of her apron to wipe her eyes, and Jan was looking at nothing at all and winking very hard, when good Mother De Smet, came by with a baby waddling along on each side of her. She gave the two dismal little faces a quick glance and then said kindly:

"Jan, you run and see if you can't help Father with the tiller, and, Marie, would you mind playing with the babies while I put on the soup-kettle and fix the greens for dinner? They are beginning to climb everywhere now, and I am afraid they will fall overboard if somebody doesn't watch them every minute!"

Jan clattered at once across the deck to Father De Smet, and Marie gladly followed his wife to the open space in front of the cabin where the babies had room to roll about. Half an hour later, when Mother De Smet went back to get some potatoes for the soup, she found Jan proudly steering the boat by himself.

"Oh, my soul!" she cried in astonishment. "What a clever boy you must be to learn so quickly to handle the tiller. Where is Father De Smet?"

"Here!" boomed a loud voice behind her, and Father De Smet's head appeared above a barrel on the other side of the deck. "I'm trying to make the 'Old Woman' look as if she had no cargo aboard. If the Germans see these potatoes, they'll never let us get them to Antwerp," he shouted.

"Sh-h-h! You mustn't talk so loud," whispered Mother De Smet. "You roar like a foghorn on a dark night. The Germans won't have any trouble in finding out about the potatoes if you shout the news all over the landscape."

Father De Smet looked out over the quiet Belgian fields.

"There's nobody about that I can see," he said, "but I'll roar more gently next time."

There was a bend in the river just at this point, and Jan, looking fearfully about to see if he could see any Germans, for an instant forgot all about the tiller. There was a jerk on the tow-rope and a bump as the nose of the "Old Woman" ran into the river-bank. Netteke, the mule, came to a sudden stop, and Mother De Smet sat down equally suddenly on a coil of rope. Her potatoes spilled over the deck, while a wail from the front of the boat announced that one of the babies had bumped, too. Mother De Smet picked herself up and ran to see what was the matter with the baby, while Father De Smet seized a long pole and hurried forward. Joseph left the mule to browse upon the grass beside the tow-path and ran back to the boat. His father threw him a pole which was kept for such emergencies, and they both pushed. Joseph pushed on the boat and his father pushed against the river-bank. Meanwhile poor Jan stood wretchedly by the tiller knowing that his carelessness had caused the trouble, yet not knowing what to do to help.

"Never mind, son," said Mother De Smet kindly, when she came back for her potatoes and saw his downcast face. "It isn't the first time the 'Old Woman' has stuck her nose in the mud, and with older people than you at the tiller, too! We'll soon have her off again and no harm done."

The boat gave a little lurch toward the middle of the stream.

"Look alive there, Mate!" sang out Father De Smet. "Hard aport with the tiller! Head her out into the stream!"

Joseph flung his pole to his father and rushed back to Netteke, pulled her patient nose out of a delicious bunch of thistles and started her up the tow-path. Jan sprang to the tiller, and soon the "Old Woman" was once more gliding smoothly over the quiet water toward Antwerp.

When Father De Smet came back to the stern of the boat, Jan expected a scolding, but perhaps it seemed to the good-natured skipper that Jan had troubles enough already, for he only said mildly, "Stick to your job, son, whatever it is," and went on covering his potatoes with empty boxes and pieces of sailcloth. Jan paid such strict attention to the tiller after that that he did not even forget when Father De Smet pointed out a burning farmhouse a mile or so from the river and said grimly, "The Germans are amusing themselves again."

For the most part, however, the countryside seemed so quiet and peaceful that it was hard to believe that such dreadful things were going on all about them. While Father De Smet's eyes, under their bushy brows, kept close watch in every direction, he said little about his fears and went on his way exactly as he had done before the invasion.

It was quite early in the morning when they left Boom, and by ten o'clock Joseph was tired of trudging along beside Netteke. He hailed his father.

"May I come aboard now?" he shouted.

Father De Smet looked at Jan.

"Would you like to drive the mule awhile?" he asked.

"Oh, wouldn't I!" cried Jan.

"Have you ever driven a mule before?" Father De Smet asked again.

"Not a mule, exactly," Jail replied, "but I drove old Pier up from the field with a load of wheat all by myself. Mother sat on the load."

"Come along!" shouted Father De Smet to Joseph, and in a moment the gangplank was out and Jan and Joseph had changed places.

"May I go, too?" asked Marie timidly of Father De Smet as he was about to draw in the plank. "The babies are both asleep and I have nothing to do."

Father De Smet took a careful look in every direction. It was level, open country all about them, dotted here and there with farmhouses, and in the distance the spire of a village church rose above the clustering houses and pointed to the sky.

"Yes, yes, child. Go ahead," said Father De Smet. "Only don't get too near Netteke's hind legs. She doesn't know you very well and sometimes she forgets her manners."

Marie skipped over the gangplank and ran along the tow-path to Jan, who already had taken up Netteke's reins and was waiting for the signal to start. Joseph took his place at the tiller, and again the "Old Woman" moved slowly down the stream.

For some time Jan and Marie plodded along with Netteke. At first they thought it good fun, but by and by, as the sun grew hot, driving a mule on a tow-path did not seem quite so pleasant a task as they had thought it would be.

"I'm tired of this," said Jan at last to Marie. "That mule is so slow that I have to sight her by something to be sure that she is moving at all! I've been measuring by that farmhouse across the river for a long time, and she hasn't crawled up to it yet! I shouldn't wonder if she'd go to sleep some day and fall into the river and never wake up! Why, I am almost asleep myself."

"She'll wake up fast enough when it's time to eat, and so will you," said Marie, with profound wisdom.

"Let 's see if we can't make her go a little faster, anyway," said Jan, ignoring Marie's remark. "I know what I'll do," he went on, chuckling; "I'll get some burrs and stick them in her tail, and then every time she slaps the flies off she'll make herself go faster."

Marie seized Jan's arm.

"You'll do nothing of the kind!" she cried. "Father De Smet told me especially to keep away from Netteke's hind legs."

"Pooh!" said Jan; "he didn't tell me that. I'm not afraid of any mule alive. I guess if I can harness a horse and drive home a load of grain from the field, there isn't much I can't do with a mule!" To prove his words he shouted "U--U" at Netteke and slapped her flank with a long branch of willow.

Now, Netteke was a proud mule and she wasn't used to being slapped. Father De Smet knew her ways, and knew also that her steady, even, slow pace was better in the long run than to attempt to force a livelier gait, and Netteke was well aware of what was expected of her. She resented being interfered with. Instead of going forward at greater speed, she put her four feet together, laid back her ears, gave a loud "hee-haw!" and stopped stock-still.

"U--U!" shouted Jan. In vain! Netteke would not move. Marie held a handful of fresh grass just out of reach of her mouth. But Netteke was really offended. She made no effort to get it. She simply stayed where she was. Father De Smet stuck his head over the side of the boat.

"What is the matter?" he shouted.

"Oh, dear!" said Jan to Marie. "I hoped he wouldn't notice that the boat wasn't moving."

"Netteke has stopped. She won't go at all. I think she's run down!" Marie called back.

"Try coaxing her," cried the skipper. "Give her something to eat. Hold it in front of her nose."

"I have," answered Marie, "but she won't even look at it."

"Then it's no use," said Father De Smet mournfully. "She's balked and that is all there is to it. We'll just have to wait until she is ready to go again. When she has made up her mind she is as difficult to persuade as a setting hen."

Mother De Smet's head appeared beside her husband's over the boat-rail.

"Oh, dear!" said she; "I hoped we should get to the other side of the line before dark, but if Netteke's set, she's set, and we must just make the best of it. It's lucky it's dinner-time. We'll eat, and maybe by the time we are through she'll be willing to start." Father De Smet tossed a bucket on to the grass.

"Give her a good drink," he said, "and come aboard yourselves."

Jan filled the bucket from the river and set it down before Netteke, but she was in no mood for blandishments. She kept her ears back and would not touch the water.

"All right, then, Crosspatch," said Jan. Leaving the pail in front of her, he went back to the boat. The gangplank was put out, and he and Marie went on board. They found dinner ready in the tiny cabin, and because it was so small and stuffy, and there were too many of them, anyway, to get into it comfortably, they each took a bowl of soup as Mother De Smet handed it to them and sat down on the deck in front of the cabin to eat it. It was not until the middle of the afternoon that Netteke forgot her injuries, consented to eat and drink, and indicated her willingness to move on toward Antwerp.

XI

THE ATTACK

Joseph and his father were both on the tow-path when at last Netteke decided to move. As she set her ears forward and took the first step, Father De Smet heaved a sigh of relief.

"Now, why couldn't you have done that long ago, you addlepated old fool," he said mildly to Netteke. "You have made no end of trouble for us, and gained nothing for yourself! Now I am afraid we shan't get beyond the German lines before dark. We may even have to spend the night in dangerous territory, and all because you're just as mulish as, as a mule," he finished helplessly.

Joseph laughed. "Can't you think of anything mulisher than a mule?" he said.

"There isn't a thing," answered his father.

"Well," answered Joseph, "there are a whole lot of other things beside balky mules in this world that I wish had never been made. There are spiders, and rats, and Germans. They are all pests. I don't see why they were ever born."

Father De Smet became serious at once.

"Son," he said sternly, "don't ever let me hear you say such a thing again. There are spiders, and rats, and balky mules, and Germans, and it doesn't do a bit of good to waste words fussing because they are here. The thing to do is to deal with them!"

Father De Smet was so much in earnest that he boomed these words out in quite a loud voice. Joseph seized his hand.

"Hush!" he whispered.

Father De Smet looked up. There, standing right in front of them in the tow-path, was a German soldier!

"Halt!" shouted the soldier.

But Netteke was now just as much bent upon going as she had been before upon standing still. She paid no attention whatever to the command, but walked stolidly along the tow-path directly toward the soldier.

"Halt!" cried the soldier again.

But Netteke had had no military training, and she simply kept on. In one more step she would have come down upon the soldier's toes, if he had not moved aside just in time. He was very angry.

"Why didn't you stop your miserable old mule when I told you to?" he said to Father De Smet.

"It's a balky mule," replied Father De Smet mildly, "and very obstinate."

"Indeed!" sneered the soldier; "then, I suppose you have named him Albert after your pig-headed King!"

"No," answered Father De Smet, "I think too much of my King to name my mule after him."

"Oh, ho!" said the German; "then perhaps you have named him for the Kaiser!"

Netteke had marched steadily along during this conversation, and they were now past the soldier.

"No," Father De Smet called back, "I didn't name her after the Kaiser. I think too much of my mule!"

The soldier shook his fist after them. "I'll make you pay well for your impudence!" he shouted. "You and I will meet again!"

"Very likely," muttered Father De Smet under his breath. He was now more than ever anxious to get beyond the German lines before dark, but as the afternoon passed it became certain that they would not be able to do it. The shadows grew longer and longer as Netteke plodded slowly along, and at last Mother De Smet called to her husband over the boatside.

"I think we shall have to stop soon and feed the mule or she will be too tired to get us across the line at all. I believe we should save time by stopping for supper. Besides, I want to send over there," she pointed to a farmhouse not a great distance from the river, "and get some milk and eggs."

"Very well," said her husband; "we'll stop under that bunch of willows."

The bunch of willows beside the river which he pointed out proved to be a pleasant, sheltered spot, with grassy banks sloping down to the water. A turn in the river enabled them to draw the "Old Woman" up into their shadows, and because the trees were green and the boat was green, the reflections in the water were also green, and for this reason the boat seemed very well hidden from view.

"I don't believe we shall be noticed here," said Father De Smet.

"It's hot on the boat. It would be nice to take the babies ashore while we eat," said Mother De Smet, running out the gangplank. "I believe we'll have supper on the grass. You hurry along and get the milk and eggs, and I'll cook some onions while you are gone."

Jan and Marie ran over the plank at once, and Mother De Smet soon followed with the babies. Then, while Marie watched them, she and Jan brought out the onions and a pan, and soon the air was heavy with the smell of frying onions. Joseph and Jan slipped the bridle over Netteke's collar and allowed her to eat the rich green grass at the river's edge. When Father De Smet returned, supper was nearly ready. He sniffed appreciatively as he appeared under the trees.

"Smells good," he said as he held out the milk and eggs toward his wife.

"Sie haben recht!" (You are right!), said a loud voice right behind him!

Father De Smet was so startled that he dropped the eggs. He whirled about, and there stood the German soldier who had told Netteke to halt. With him were six other men.

"Ha! I told you we should meet again!" shouted the soldier to Father De Smet. "And it was certainly thoughtful of you to provide for our entertainment. Comrades, fall to!"

The onions were still cooking over a little blaze of twigs aid dry leaves, but Mother De Smet was no longer tending them. The instant she heard the gruff voice she had dropped her spoon, and, seizing a baby under each arm, had fled up the gangplank on to the boat. Marie followed at top speed. Father De Smet faced the intruders.

"What do you want here?" he said.

"Some supper first," said the soldier gayly, helping himself to some onions and passing the pan to his friends. "Then, perhaps, a few supplies for our brave army. There is no hurry. After supper will do; but first we'll drink a health to the Kaiser, and since you are host here, you shall propose it!"

He pointed to the pail of milk which Father De Smet still held.

"Now," he shouted, "lift your stein and say, 'Hoch der Kaiser.'"

Father De Smet looked them in the face and said not a word. Meanwhile Jan and Joseph, to Mother De Smet's great alarm, had not followed her, on to the boat. Instead they had flown to Netteke, who was partly hidden from the group by a bunch of young willows near the water's edge, and with great speed and presence of mind had slipped her bridle over her head and gently started her up the tow-path.

"Oh," murmured Joseph, "suppose she should balk!" But Netteke had done her balking for the day, and, having been refreshed by her luncheon of green grass, she was ready to move on. The river had now quite a current, which helped them, and while the soldiers were still having their joke with Father De Smet the boat moved quietly out of sight. As she felt it move, Mother De Smet lifted her head over the boat's rail behind which she and the children were hiding, and raised the end of the gangplank so that it would make no noise by scraping along the ground. She was beside herself with anxiety. If she screamed or said anything to the boys, the attention of the soldiers would immediately be directed toward them. Yet if they should by any miracle succeed in getting away, there was her husband left alone to face seven enemies. She wrung her hands.

"Maybe they will stop to eat the onions," she groaned to herself. She held to the gangplank and murmured prayers to all the saints she knew, while Jan and Joseph trotted briskly along the tow-path, and Netteke, assisted by the current, made better speed than she had at any time during the day.

Meanwhile his captors were busy with Father De Smet. "Come! Drink to the Kaiser!" shouted the first soldier, "or we'll feed you to the fishes! We want our supper, and you delay us." Still Father De Smet said nothing. "We'll give you just until I count ten," said the soldier, pointing his gun at him, "and if by that time you have not found your tongue--"

But he did not finish the sentence. From an unexpected quarter a shot rang out. It struck the pail of milk and dashed it over the German and over Father De Smet too. Another shot followed, and the right arm of the soldier fell helpless to his side. One of his companions gave a howl and fell to the ground. Still no one appeared at whom the Germans could direct their fire. "Snipers!" shouted the soldiers, instantly lowering their guns, but before they could even fire in the direction of the unseen enemy, there was such a patter of bullets about them that they turned and fled.