Chapter 4

THE FLIGHT

From his hiding place outside the cottage, Arthur had been watching faithfully while Paul explored the inside. He heard the steps that heralded the approach of a man, and whistled at once, imitating the cry of a quail, since he thought it better to take the chance of giving a false alarm than of letting his chum be trapped inside. But it was already too late, as it turned out. Paul had gone down into the cellar and let the door fall behind him. So Arthur's warning fell on deaf ears.

The steps came nearer, and Arthur, wondering why Paul did not appear, and only half guessing the reason, whistled louder. It was hard for him to refrain from dashing at once to the rescue. But after a moment's thought he realized that this would do Paul no good, and that it was all important for him to remain free, so that, if Paul was made a prisoner, he could carry the news to Liege and so serve not only Belgium, but Paul, since that would be Paul's only chance of rescue. At least so it seemed then.

Now the man whose approach had alarmed Arthur came in sight. He was trudging along, looking like a veritable peasant. But, now, in the light of the suspicions that had been aroused that day, Arthur could see things about this man that distinguished him from the Flemish dwellers in the neighborhood.

"He is a German!" he thought. "What shall I do?"

For the moment he could do literally nothing. He could only lie still and watch the man go up to the front door of the cottage and unlock it. But then, after the German had gone in, Arthur saw that there was still a light--a light that became visible as soon as the pretended peasant lighted his lamp. Plainly the door had not been quite closed; the little streak of light showed that.

Arthur waited breathlessly for some sign that Paul's presence had been discovered. But none came. He was close enough to the door to hear the man in the cottage stamping about, and he could guess, of course, that Paul was concealed in some fashion. He had even the idea of the cellar but of course he could not be sure that Paul was not above--safe as long as it did not enter the German's head to climb the stairs. At any rate, Arthur was grateful for a respite, no matter how brief it might prove to be. Almost anything was better than the actual knowledge that his chum had been caught.

"While there's life, there's hope!" he said to himself, grimly.

But it was a good deal easier for him to determine that he would make some sort of effort to release his chum than it was for him to discover a practical way of doing so. He had the feeling that at any cost to Paul he must secure his own freedom; that was the thing that Paul had impressed most vividly on his mind. At last he determined to risk a trip to the window by which Paul had made his entrance. He wanted to look inside; to see, at least, what was going on. Then some means of helping Paul might suggest itself.

Of course Arthur had seen nothing of the inside of the room, since it had been dark when Paul had climbed in. Now the first thing he saw after the man of the house himself, was the trap door that led to the cellar. He understood at once that Paul must be down there.

"That's why he didn't hear me, of course!" he said to himself. "Now to get him out!"

Suddenly, just as he was about to leave the window, Arthur was startled into a stiff and rigid halt by the sound of a heavy knock on the door of the cottage. The German inside, busy just then in cutting up a huge sausage that was evidently to be his dinner, seemed to be almost as startled as Arthur himself. He jumped up, upsetting his chair, and flung the door open. At once his whole manner changed. He started back, then stiffened himself and stood at attention. A young man, dressed in a uniform of a greenish-gray cloth that Arthur had never seen before, and covered now with dust, walked in. Arthur could scarcely believe his eyes. Everything about the newcomer pointed to the fact that he was a German officer, for if the color of the uniform was unfamiliar, its cut was not. But a German officer in uniform here!

"Zu befehl, Herr Hauptmann!" said the man of the cottage.

"It's come, Froebel," said the captain. He stretched his arms, as if glad of the chance. "I've had a fine trip from Aachen! The worst roads I ever tried to push a motorcycle over! But I'm here--so that's even! There are more coming. General von Emmich's army is on the march already. We have even now taken possession of Luxembourg. To-night the Belgian government finally declined to give us the right to move our troops through their little toy country! So we must fight them, too."

"I'm not sorry," said Froebel. Some of the stiffness had gone out of his manner. "I'll be glad to get a chance to do some fighting instead of this eternal spying! And who knows? If I am lucky, I may get a little swifter promotion than I had hoped for."

"Oh, I forgot," said the other. "Congratulations, Froebel! You have your captaincy, and a staff detail. That's unofficial, of course. But I've seen the order."

"Good," said Froebel, impassively. "But if you stay with the line, Poertner, you'll be a colonel before I'm a major. Enough--to business! I have bad news."

"Bad news? What sort?"

"It's that clumsy fool Ridder! He has been mapping the whole field of operation here, as you know--details of the forts, and the location of all the concealed gun mountings and platforms we have put in in case the Belgians should be foolish enough to try to stop us by force."

"Yes, yes! What of it?"

"Eh? He had those papers--those simply invaluable papers! And he was alarmed by two Belgian boys in Boy Scout uniform--thought they were soldiers coming to arrest him! He took to his heels and naturally, being boys, they followed! He dropped his papers going over a fence! When he missed them he went back. But he found no trace of them. He is sure that the two boys got them."

"Donnerwetter! That's a bad business, Froebel! I fear for our friend Ridder! The intelligence department will not be altogether pleased by this. But what if the boys have them? Is there a chance, do you think, that they will understand them?"

"Who knows? Some devil might lead them to take them to a Belgian officer! However--even so, there is this much of good about it. There is no time for them to do anything. They can't get at our gun platforms. If they had a week! But you say General von Emmich is already on the march? That means that war has been declared?"

"No, only that it has begun," said Poertner, with a smile. "It is no longer the fashion to declare war formally---unless the enemy is like Russia with us--so far away that we can't strike first. No. The modern way is to begin fighting and let the other side declare war. So they seem to take the aggressive."

"I see," said Froebel. "Well, at any rate, it is the time I am thinking of. They are fairly well prepared here at Liege. The forts are in order; they have good men, and plenty of ammunition for their guns. But against our Krupp pieces--"

He laughed to express the chance that the stout forts of Liege were to have against the German artillery. And outside Arthur, listening, ground his teeth. He was glad that he had come; already he had learned facts likely to prove of the first importance. No matter how well the garrison of Liege was prepared for any emergency, it would be vastly helpful to know when the blow might be expected to fall. It is one thing to be prepared for a trouble that may come some day; it is quite another to know that it is imminent, and to make plans accordingly.

In Arthur's mind an idea now began to take root. The voices of the two Germans inside died away, and he seized the opportunity to make his way quietly to the front of the cottage. There, lying on its side, was the motorcycle of which the new arrival had spoken. Arthur had ridden motorcycles himself, and now he went up to this one and examined it carefully. He found that while it was different from the ones he had ridden, the points of difference were really trifling and that he could understand it easily enough.

Then he went back for another peep in the window. The two German officers were busily engaged now in eating, and were washing down the sausage, amid a good deal of laughter at the rough fare, with two bottles of wine.

"When we have finished," said Poertner, "we will have a look at your little arsenal below."

"It's a real arsenal," said Froebel, proudly. "That was rather well managed, I think. We have managed to bring in the guns, one part at a time and the ammunition piecemeal, in the same way. These stupid Belgians never even suspected. It is only just lately that they have even begun to dream that there might be danger for them if it came to war. Before they woke up everything was here!"

"Well, your guns will be at work before many hours if all goes well," said Poertner. "This sausage of yours is not so bad, after all! Food is food when you are hungry! Ah, it will be some time, at best, before we can eat again in Berlin, my friend!"

"Yes. There will be garrison work, even after we have taken Paris. Still, even so, it should not be so long. Three weeks perhaps--that should be enough to beat the French this time. We are better prepared than we were in 1870."

"So are they, I hear. Well, they couldn't be worse off than they were then! No matter, though--we shall outnumber them from the start. Will the English fight, do you think?"

"Pah--the English! No! They will be too busy with their troubles at home. They will have a rebellion on their hands in Ulster. No, England will have too many troubles of her own at home, to be able to cross the sea to look for more."

Arthur had heard all he needed. Now he drew back from the window, picking up several good-sized stones as he did so. And when he was some distance away, but still able to see the two Germans, he stopped and waited.

He waited until the two officers had finished their meal and had risen. Even then he waited until they moved, together, to the trap door. Then, raising his arm, he let fly the first of his stones. It crashed through the window, shattering the glass. At once he threw another, and then still another. He had counted, and not in vain, on the instinct that would move the two Germans. With a single motion they leaped to the door. As they did so, even as they rushed out, he ran diagonally, so as to get away from them, toward the front of the house. As they stormed around in the direction from which he had thrown the stones, and so out of sight of the front of the house, he stopped. They passed within half a dozen feet of him, but, naturally, they had not expected him to come right toward them, and they passed him unnoticed.

Then, as soon as they were out of sight, he made for the cottage. He meant to call Paul. But Paul was at the door as he reached it for he had understood, from what he had been able to hear, something of what had happened.

"Come on! Here's a motorcycle we can take!" cried Arthur, eagerly.

He lifted the machine. In a moment he had started the motor, and Paul leaped up behind him as he got it going.

"Hurry! Here they come!" shouted Paul.

The put-put of the motor had aroused the Germans to what was going on. Now they stormed back around the cottage. They were just in time to see the motorcycle being ridden madly off; in time, too, to fire a couple of shots apiece from their pistols. But their aim was bad: the boys heard the bullets whistling over their heads. In less than a minute they were safe!