hawk-like in their intensity. His closely-cropped hair was iron-grey. A slightly drooping moustache hid a resolute mouth.

The two English lads were in the presence of a man whose name, hitherto practically unknown outside his own country, was soon to be on the lips of everyone who was likely to hear of the gallant stand of Liége—General Albert Leman.

A quick vertical motion of the General's right hand—he was a man of few words—was the signal for Major Résimont to make known his business.

"I have here two Englishmen, mon Général," began the Major. "They are desirous of entering our army as motor-cyclist dispatch-riders."

Without a moment's delay the General asked: "Can they read a map?"

Kenneth and Rollo both replied that they could.

"Good!" exclaimed General Leman; then, turning to his secretary, he added: "Make out an order for these gentlemen to be attached to the 9th regiment of the line—your company, Major?"

"If you please, sir."

"Here, then, is the order," continued the General after a brief instant, during which the secretary had been writing as hard as he possibly could. "They can be sworn in as soon as an opportunity occurs. I wish you good day."

That was all. The whole business was over in less than five minutes. Not a word of thanks or encouragement to the two British volunteers. A chill had descended upon their ardour.

"The General—he is magnificent," said their companion as they gained the street. "Down to the humblest private we swear by him. One has to earn praise from the General before it is bestowed: it is our General's way. He is a man of few words, but his heart is in the right place. Now go and demand your motor-cycles and proceed to Fort de Barchon. I will meet you there and see you are attested."

With that the Major hurried off, and the two lads hastened to take possession of their own property.

"Fancy Great Britain being at war with Germany at last!" exclaimed Kenneth. "We can hardly realize it, although most people have been talking about it for years. Perhaps even now our fleet is giving the Germans a good hiding. The rotten part about our job is that we may not be able to get news of how things are going on at home."

Therein Kenneth was right. The news they received was mostly rumour. In fact, the statement they had just heard, that Great Britain had declared war, was premature. An ultimatum had been sent to Berlin stating that, unless Belgian neutrality were respected, hostilities would commence at midnight. The Liégeois had anticipated the hour, and so had the Germans, for already their mine-layers were at work in the North Sea.

An hour later, just as the sun was sinking behind the smoke-enshrouded city of Liége, Kenneth Everest and Rollo Barrington were enlisted as volunteer dispatch-riders in the 9th regiment of the line of the Belgian army.

CHAPTER V

A Baptism of Fire

At eight o'clock on the following morning the motorcyclist section—nine in number—was paraded in front of the orderly-room of Fort de Barchon. Already the bulk of the regiments had marched out to take up a position in the trenches between the fortifications and the right bank of the Meuse.

The two English lads had been served out with a dark-blue uniform, with heavy boots and brown gaiters, and had been armed with a Belgian service revolver—a .45-bore, made by the famous firm of Cockerill of Seraing.

Already they had been instructed in its use, and had—thanks to their cadet training—met with the approval of their musketry instructor. Their motor-cycles had also been subjected to a critical inspection. The officer—who in civil life had been in the motor industry at Liége—had to report, in spite of slight professional jealousy, that the English motor-cycles were fit for service, and almost equal to those owned by the other members of the dispatch-riding section.

One by one the men were called into the orderly-room, where they received instructions and dispatches, till only Kenneth and Rollo remained.

"Private Ever-r-rest and Private Bar-r-rington," shouted the orderly-room sergeant, sounding his r's like the roll of a drum.

Within they found Major Résimont, and, as befitting their relative rank, the lads saluted and stood at attention.

"Deliver this to Captain Leboeuf at Visé," ordered the Major. "In view of the German advance, he is to cross the river and impede the enemy as much as possible, retiring upon Fort de Pontisse if in danger of being outflanked." Then dropping the official voice, he added in English, "Since Madame de la Barre would pay no heed to my request, it is necessary for strategic reasons to occupy her house. You may now have an opportunity of seeing your sister, Monsieur Everest. There are, I believe, only our pupils there during the holidays. Captain Leboeuf will arrange for them to be sent into Maastricht by train, or by a carriage if railway communication is interrupted. They can then proceed to Brussels in the ordinary way. You might give this to Mademoiselle Yvonne for incidental expenses for herself and her friend, your sister," and the Major handed Kenneth a packet containing a sheaf of notes.

"Be cautious," he added. "The Germans have already advanced upon Lembourg."

The lads saluted and withdrew. A minute later they were dashing over the drawbridge, bound on their first duty as dispatch-riders in the Belgian army, though with a semi-official motive.

Away on their right came the rapid booming of light artillery fire. Beyond the woods of Verviers a thick cloud of black smoke rose sullenly in the heavy air.

Their route lay along a fairly level road bounded on each side by tall trees. In the centre was a strip of pavé, but between it and the ditch on either hand was a dusty path which afforded good going. The cyclists were soon touching thirty miles an hour, the rapid beats of their engines drowning the noise of the distant cannonade.

Once they had to slow down in order to allow a cart to draw up on one side. The floor of the cart was covered with straw, and on the straw lay some strange objects. The lads did not realize what these burdens were. They were new to the game of war, but not for long.

Presently they noticed a group of soldiers approaching. Thrice the lads sounded their horns without effect. Again they had to slow down.

"Good heavens! Look!" ejaculated Kenneth.

The men were limping painfully. One had his arm thrown around a comrade's neck, and his head falling limply upon the other's shoulder. Another, his head bound by a blood-stained scarf, was using the butt of his rifle as a crutch.

"There's been an action already," said Rollo.

"Yes, and on the Visé road," added his companion. "Let's push on. I hope we are not too late."

During the slowing-down process the thunder of the guns became horribly distinct. There was terrific firing in the direction of Argenteau. More, there were heavy Belgian losses, for the men they had just passed were but the van of a ghastly procession of wounded.

At Argenteau a body of reserves was in possession of the village. Barricades had been hastily constructed, walls of buildings loopholed, and barbed-wire entanglements placed across the road.

"Halte-là!"

Rollo came to a standstill with the point of a Belgian bayonet within a couple of inches of his chest. Kenneth, who was twenty yards in the rear, almost as promptly alighted.

"Qui v'là?" demanded the sentry.

"Dispatches for Captain Leboeuf," replied Kenneth.

The man recovered his arms.

"May you have the good fortune to find him!" said he. "Our troops have been compelled to fall back in the face of superior numbers. Turn to the right, then take the first road to the left. It will bring you back to the Visé road."

Following the sentry's direction the lads found that the route was still open,