CHAPTER XXVII.

"THE GERMANS ARE COMING!"

It was in the early days of the war when the gallant defenders of Liege were still undauntedly holding back the Teuton thousands with their great "caterpillar" siege guns that were destined, ere long, to hammer down the stubborn defense of Belgium's neutrality. Trains were running and business, although seriously hampered, was still being carried on, though the foe was at the gate and the capital had been removed from Brussels to Antwerp.

Armed with passes signed by M. La Farge, to which their photographs were attached for purposes of identification, the boys started for Liege the next day. It was likely to prove an arduous and not unhazardous task that they had embarked upon. In the first place "spy fever" was at its height. Anyone not in uniform was liable to be held up and questioned, and if satisfactory explanations were not forthcoming, they were liable to very unpleasant consequences.

The word of any frightened peasant choosing to "denounce" anybody had led to riots and affrays in which men and women, suspected of espionage, had been rescued by troopers after being half beaten to death.

Above all, the boys were warned not to carry weapons of any kind, an injunction which they obeyed as they did all the rest of M. La Farge's admonitions. The train journey proved exasperating. Sometimes it would be halted for hours on a side track while trains, loaded with young-looking soldiers in a strange medley of gay Belgian uniforms, went by, the men cheering and singing. Again, much time was wasted by careful reconnaissances, for there was fear that bridges might have been dynamited or the right of way mined by the spies who were rife throughout the country.

A whole day passed thus, with the train creeping like a snail and continually stopping and starting. The roads at the side of the track were alive with peasants flocking to different centres from their lonely houses in the country. Some had their family possessions piled high in small carts drawn by dogs. Others carried what they had been able hastily to collect. It was another sad picture of war and the desolation it had brought on an inoffensive, industrious little country.

Several aeroplanes soared above the train, reconnoitering the country. At first the boys were nervous lest there might be a repetition of the bomb-dropping at Antwerp, but they were assured by the official on the train, who had examined their passes, that the aircraft were all friendly French and Belgian aeroplanes, after which they watched them with less uncomfortable feelings. As Bill put it:

"If we were at war and shouldering rifles for the dear old U. S. A., we'd take the chances of war with the rest of them, but being a neutral, there's no sense in throwing away our bright young lives," a sentiment to which Jack agreed heartily.

It was dark when the train rolled into Louvain. After innumerable challenges by armed sentries, they at last reached the hotel of the place where many of the soldiers were quartered. If Antwerp had seemed like an armed fortress, signs of military activity were much more marked in the old cathedral town.

Lights were not allowed after eight o'clock. Citizens were kept off the streets at night after certain hours. Artillery rumbled through the city all night, going to the front, the boys were told.

Disquieting rumors of the fall of Liege, and the advance of the Germans, had already reached the town, and on the outskirts, barbed wire defenses were erected and trenches dug hastily. Residents were warned, in the event of the Germans entering the city, to behave themselves strictly as non-combatants, the magnificent cathedral was fitted up as a hospital in case of emergencies. The thrill of warfare was in the air.

It was early the next morning that Jack aroused Bill from his sleep.

"Hark, Bill!" he exclaimed, holding up one hand.

From far off came the boom of cannon. The ground seemed to tremble under the thunder-like reverberations. Down in the street a squadron of cavalry raced through the town. Then came the rumbling of guns being rushed to the front.

"It's a big battle," declared Jack; "and what's more the sounds have been growing louder. It must be a retreat."

Bill looked grave.

"In that case we are likely to be in the thick of it."

"I'm afraid so, and it may be mighty difficult to get away. We'll have to find Tom Jukes as soon as we can, and then get back to the coast."

An aeroplane buzzed by overhead, its powerful engines whirring, buzzing thunderously. By daylight the town was almost empty of soldiers; they had all, except a few detachments, been called to the front during the night.

The landlord of the hotel was in a great state of perturbation.

"Ah, those terrible Germans!" he exclaimed, "they will wreck our beautiful town and put us to death. I know them. Oh, what unhappy times."

"Perhaps they may be beaten back," encouraged Jack.

"Oh, no! No such good fortune," said the landlord, wringing his hands miserably. Just after dawn, a mud-spattered courier arrived, and declared Liege had fallen, "the Germans are coming."

Everywhere that was the cry as, after a hasty breakfast in the disordered hotel, the boys hurried out.