The Dispatch Riders Part 26

In vain the lads mentioned the names of Major Resimont, Captain Planchenoit, and other officers of the 9th Regiment of the Line. The peasants knew nothing of them; besides, they declared, it was an easy matter to invent names. Again, the prisoners spoke French with a foreign accent; they had been caught whilst coming from the direction of the German lines. They were, no doubt, scouts of the Uhlan patrol, bent upon completing the work of ma.s.sacre and destruction that the guns had begun against the unresisting village.

"Hang them: powder is too good to waste upon canaille such as these,"

suggested one of the peasants.

"Yes, hang them," agreed another. "I'll do the job. 'Twill be but a slight revenge for my murdered wife and children. Let the Uhlans see, when next they come, that we, too, can be terrible."

The Major nodded his head approvingly. A man shuffled forward with a coil of rope.

"One moment," exclaimed Kenneth, who even in this moment of peril did not lose his head. "If we are to die, cannot we have the service of a priest?"

It was a faint chance. A representative of the Church would undoubtedly have great influence with his flock. He would, more than likely, listen impartially to the story of the two condemned prisoners.

"A priest?" echoed one of the peasants mockingly. "Is it likely that Germans who have purposely shattered G.o.d's house can hope for absolution from a priest?"

"Besides, we have not a priest," added another. "Monsieur le cure was wounded early in the day. He was taken to Louvain."

"Hurry with the execution, camarades," said the Mayor. "Time is precious. At any moment a strong body of these Uhlans may be upon us.

Prepared, we may bring down a few and sell our lives dearly--but this is not being prepared."

Kenneth s.h.i.+vered when he felt the contact of the rope round his neck.

He glanced at his companion. Rollo's face was red with suppressed fury. He looked as if he were on the point of breaking loose and making a desperate bid for freedom. It was the injustice of the whole business, not the fear of death, that agitated him.

"Let's have a slap at them," said Rollo in a low tone. "If we get a dose of lead it will be better than a rope. Quickly, before they begin to tie our hands. Ready?"

"Aye," replied Kenneth calmly.

"One moment! You mark time with that fellow with the scar over his eye. We'll keep together as long as we can. I hardly feel my ankle----"

He stopped. His ready ear detected the clatter of horses' hoofs. The peasants heard it too. In evident alarm they gripped their antiquated fire-arms. The fellow with the rope let the noose fall from his hands and made a rush for his musket.

"It is well, camarades," shouted the Mayor. "They are our soldiers."

Down the main street of the ruined village rode a troop of Belgian lancers, followed by a motor-car on which was mounted an automatic gun.

Seeing two men in Uhlan uniforms surrounded by a mob of angry peasants, the officer in charge ordered his men to halt, and rode up to ascertain the cause of the commotion.

As he did so, Kenneth recognized him as one of the officers who took part in trapping the Uhlans after their raid on Tongres.

"A nous, mon capitaine!" he said in a loud, clear voice.

"What have we here?" exclaimed the officer in astonishment; then recalling Kenneth's features he continued: "The English soldier in Uhlan uniform! What is the meaning of it all?"

In as few words as possible Kenneth related the circ.u.mstances that led to their present condition.

When he had finished, the captain turned to the leading villager.

"Monsieur le maire," he said. "I will be answerable for these two Englishmen. Believe me, in your zeal for your country's good you have slightly overstepped the bounds. Fortunately there is no real harm done, and messieurs les Anglais will no doubt forgive an unintentional injury."

The Mayor, who had meanwhile readjusted his sash, saluted the lancer captain, then held out his hand to Kenneth.

"Pardon, camarade," he said.

Now that the danger was over, both lads felt able to accept the deep apologies of the peasants. The latter had been labouring under a genuine grievance, and their somewhat high-handed action would admit of an excuse. They were quaking in their shoes lest their former prisoners should take steps to secure their punishment; but finding themselves magnanimously treated, they responded with three hurrahs for England and the two men who had come from that country to aid stricken Belgium in her troubles.

"Now what do you propose doing?" asked the Captain. "As for us, we must push on. We have an important reconnaissance to make."

"We want to rejoin our regiment--the 9th of the Line, sir," replied Kenneth.

The officer smiled grimly.

"I regret, messieurs, that I cannot help you in that direction," he said. "Perhaps the best thing you can do is to make your way to Brussels, and there await news of your regiment. Should anyone question you, say that I--Captain Doublebois--have instructed you. Is there anything else?"

"We've run short of petrol, sir," announced Rollo, pointing in the direction of the motor-cycle, the handlebars of which were just visible above the edge of the ditch.

"Parbleu! Petrol is now as precious as one's life-blood.

Nevertheless, I think we may be able to spare you a litre. Corporal Fougette," he shouted, addressing the non-commissioned officer in charge of the motor machine-gun, "measure out a litre of petrol for these messieurs--good measure, not a drop more or less."

The Captain stood by while Kenneth brought up the cycle and had the petrol poured into the tank.

"Now, messieurs," he continued, "this will suffice to take you as far as our nearest depot. After that, proceed to Brussels. I'll warrant you'll be in need of a rest, but there will be plenty to occupy your minds, or my name is not Captain Raoul Doublebois. But take my advice, messieurs, and get rid of those accursed uniforms!"

CHAPTER XX

Stranded in Brussels

It was late in the day when Kenneth and Rollo having partaken of a plain but satisfying meal on the way, arrived in Belgium's capital.

The streets were crowded with refugees from the war-inundated districts. Throngs of pale-faced women and children, for the most part unnaturally apathetic, stood in mute despair around the country carts piled high with their belongings. Many of them had seen their houses torn by shot and sh.e.l.l, their neighbours slain by the German guns.

Rendered homeless, they had fled to Brussels; their villages might be overrun and occupied by the invaders, but the capital--never! The Allies would never permit that.

Old men related the tales of their grandsires, how, almost a hundred years ago, England saved Brussels from the invader. History would, they felt convinced, repeat itself. So in their thousands the refugees poured into the already congested streets of the city.

Kenneth and his companion were indeed fortunate in securing the room they had occupied during their previous stay in the Belgian capital.

Quickly divesting themselves of the civilian garb that they had managed to procure, they threw themselves into bed and slept like logs until nine the next morning.

When Rollo attempted to rise he found that his ankle had swollen to such an extent that it was almost a matter of impossibility to set foot to ground. The excitement and continual movement of the previous day had tended to make him forget the injury, but once his boot was removed and the limb allowed to rest, inflammation and consequent enlargement of the joint were the result.

"Take it easy, old man," suggested Kenneth. "When we've had breakfast I'll saunter out and see how things are progressing. Let me see, what's the programme? New uniforms; money--we have about ten centimes between the pair of us. It's lucky the pater placed that fifty pounds to my credit in the bank. The trouble is, how am I to prove my ident.i.ty? Then there's Thelma. Perhaps Major Resimont's family has returned to the Rue de la Tribune, so I'll find out. I'll be gone some little time, old man."

"I don't mind," replied Rollo. "Before you go, you might get hold of a paper."

The cost of their simple breakfast was an "eye-opener". Already famine prices were being asked in the overcrowded city. Somewhat shamefacedly Kenneth had to explain the reason for his pecuniary embarra.s.sment; but to his surprise the short, podgy woman who corresponded to the British landlady expressed her willingness to wait until messieurs les Anglais were accommodated.

"Perhaps, although I trust not, I may have to entertain Prussians," she added. "Then I know it is hopeless to expect payment."

Having had breakfast, Kenneth went out. He had put on an overcoat, lent by his obliging hostess, in order to conceal the nondescript garments he had obtained as civilian clothes.