The Dispatch Riders Part 6

"See if the Captain is with these men. We must hasten: it will be a jolly sight safer in the trench."

Abandoning their motor-cycles, the two lads made their way along the ditch, which fortunately ran with considerable obliquity to the direction of the fire of the German artillery.

At length they reached the trench where the Belgian infantry, taking admirable cover, were replying steadily to the hail of ill-directed rifle bullets. The only unwounded officer was a slim young lieutenant--a mere boy.

"We have dispatches for Captain Leboeuf, sir," announced Kenneth. "He was in charge of an outpost at Vise."

"Vise is all aflame," replied the officer. "No doubt the Captain has crossed the Meuse. But we are about to retire, so look to yourselves.

The enemy is threatening our right flank, otherwise we might hold this trench for another twenty-four hours."

"Any orders, sir, before we return to Fort de Barchon?"

"Yes; ride as quickly as you can to Saint Andre. The rest of our company is there. Tell the officer in command that I am retiring, and that unless he falls back he is in danger of being cut off. You understand? Good, now----"

The lieutenant's instructions ended in a faint shriek. His hands flew to his chest, and he pitched forward on his face.

A grizzled colour-sergeant instantly took command.

"Retire by sections!" he shouted. "Steady, men, no hurry. Keep them back as long as you can."

The caution was in vain. While the untried troops were lining the trench and replying to the German fire, all went well; but at the order to retire, men broke and ran for their lives. Heedless of the cover afforded by the ditch, they swarmed along the road in the direction of Argenteau, shrapnel and bullet accounting for half their numbers. Only the sergeant, two corporals, and the British dispatch-riders remained.

The Germans, advancing in close formation, were now eight hundred yards off.

Without a word the Belgian sergeant crawled along the trench, picking up the rifles and caps of the slain and placing them at intervals along the top of the mound; while the rest, including Kenneth and Rollo, who had taken possession of a couple of abandoned rifles, maintained a rapid magazine fire at the approaching troops.

"Each for himself, mes enfants," said the veteran at length. "One at a time and trust to luck."

With that a corporal cast aside his greatcoat and heavy knapsack. He was about to make a plunge through the zone of hissing bullets when Kenneth stopped him.

"There's a ditch farther along," he announced. "We came that way."

The man hesitated, then, communicated the news to his sergeant.

"Come then, mes braves," exclaimed the veteran.

One by one, crawling along the ditch the five made their way, till they gained the comparative shelter afforded by the walls of a ruined cottage. Proof against bullets, the house had been practically demolished by sh.e.l.l-fire.

"We must go back and get our bikes," declared Kenneth. "It's fairly safe. Those fellows are apparently directing their fire against those caps and rifles showing above the trench."

They found their steeds uninjured. In record time they were in the saddle and tearing along the avenue, which here and there was dotted with dead Belgians. The wounded had evidently been carried off by their comrades.

As they pa.s.sed the ruined cottage where they had parted from the three soldiers the latter were no longer to be seen, but a hoa.r.s.e cry of "A moi, camarades!" caused Rollo to turn. He alone caught the appeal, for Kenneth had secured a slight start and the noise of his engine had drowned the shout for aid.

"Hold on!" shouted Rollo; but Kenneth, unaware of the call, was out of ear-shot, and doing a good thirty or forty miles an hour.

Leaving his engine still running, Rollo dismounted and made his way towards the building. Shots were whistling overhead. He crouched as he hastened, for he had not yet acquired the contempt for the screech of a bullet that the old soldier has, knowing that with the whizzing of the missile that particular danger has pa.s.sed.

Lying against the bullet-spattered wall was the old sergeant. A fragment of shrapnel, rebounding from the masonry, had fractured his left ankle.

There was no time for first-aid. The Germans were now within three hundred yards of the abandoned trench. Throwing his arms round the sergeant's body, Rollo lifted him from the ground, then kneeling, he managed to transfer him across his back. Fortunately the wounded man was not very heavy, and the lad, staggering under his burden, carried him to the place where he had left his motor-cycle.

Just then came the rapid pop-pop of another motor-bike. Kenneth, having discovered that his chum was no longer in his company, had returned.

"Give me a push off, old man," panted Rollo, as he set his burden across the carrier and stood astride his steed.

In went the clutch; Kenneth, running by the side of the cycle for a few yards, steadied the wounded sergeant, who was clinging desperately to the young dispatch-rider.

"All right, let go!" shouted Rollo.

The bike wobbled dangerously under the unusual burden. The sergeant's grip wellnigh destroyed the lad's power of command on the steering.

The _zipp_ of a bullet did much to add to the difficulty, and momentarily Rollo thought that nothing could save him from toppling into the ditch.

"Let go my arms and catch hold of my waist," he shouted desperately.

The sergeant fortunately understood and obeyed; the motor-cycle began to recover its balance, and as Rollo opened the throttle and increased speed it settled down to its normal condition.

On either side the trees seemed to slip past like the spokes of a wheel; the pace was terrific, and although the wounded man must have been suffering agonies, not a groan came from his lips.

Presently Kenneth rode up alongside, for they were out of range and the road was no longer enc.u.mbered with the fallen. Five minutes later the two lads dismounted at the barricade of Argenteau.

Here ready arms relieved Rollo of his burden; soldiers a.s.sisted in lifting the cycles over the barrier. As they did so one of them pointed to one of the tool-bag panniers on Rollo's cycle. It was pierced by a bullet.

"Where are you going to?" demanded a major.

"To Saint Andre, to warn a half-company of the 9th regiment to retire, sir."

"It is unnecessary. The men have already rejoined. Return to Fort de Barchon and say that if need be we can still hold the enemy in check, but that we are losing heavily."

Soon they were back again at Argenteau, with instructions for the remains of the badly-mauled regiment to fall back upon the lines of defence prepared between the two forts in the north-eastern side of the circle surrounding Liege.

The invaders had been delayed sufficiently to allow General Leman to complete his dispositions. They were yet to learn that even the much-vaunted German infantry could not afford to despise the gallant Belgians.

"It's a jolly sight better than Rugby, anyway," declared Kenneth, as at the end of their first day on active service they returned to their quarters at Fort de Barchon.

But Rollo did not reply. He was thinking of the bullet hole in the pannier of his cycle. It had been a narrow squeak.

CHAPTER VI

A Vain a.s.sault

"I say, how about your sister, old man?" asked Rollo.

"She's all right," replied Kenneth optimistically. "These Germans don't make war on women and girls. Besides, Madame de la Barre doubtless dropped a little of her standoffishness directly she heard the sound of firing. I'm pretty sure they are now either safe in Dutch territory or else on their way to Brussels."

"If I had a sister I would be a jolly sight more anxious about her than you are," persisted Rollo.