THE BIG FIVE MOTORCYCLE BOYS ON THE BATTLE LINE.

CHAPTER I.
ON THE STREETS OF ANTWERP.

“Good-bye, Elmer, and you, too, Rooster!”

“It’s too bad we have to hurry home, and break up the Big Five Motorcycle Boys’ combination, just when we’ve been having such royal good times over in the country of the Great War!”

“But there was nothing else to do, Elmer, when you got that cable message telling you to take the first steamer home, as your mother was about to undergo an operation, and wanted to see you first.”

“And Rooster here chose to go along with you, because he’s got such a tender chicken heart he just hates to see all the misery and suffering these poor Belgians are enduring.”

“There’s the last call to go ashore. Come along, Josh, and you too, Hanky Panky. Boys, to be honest with you I more than half wish I was going along. Home would look mighty fine to me just now.”

“Oh! shucks! you’ll soon get over that feeling, Rod,” said the lanky boy called Josh, taking the alarm at once, for he seemed perfectly contented to stay where he was; “just wait till we’re spinning along on our bully machines down through Ostend, Dunkirk, and Calais to Boulogne, where we may take a steamer to the U. S. if we can find berths.”

“Be sure to keep a regular daily log of your happenings, Josh, so we can look it over when you get back home,” begged the boy who went by the strange nick-name of “Rooster,” doubtless because he crowed so much over his accomplishments.

“Good-bye, and good luck!” called out Elmer, waving his hand again.

“Remember us to everybody in Garland, particularly all the pretty girls!” shouted Hanky Panky, after the last exchange of handshakes, when with his two chums, Rod and Josh, he hurried down the gang-plank to the dock.

The steamer for London was leaving its Antwerp pier, and all seemed excitement. Many people were already fleeing madly from Belgium, now partly overrun by the vast invading army of the German Kaiser. At any day Antwerp was likely to be bombarded by the tremendous forty-two centimetre guns that had reduced the steel-domed forts at Liege and Namur, and allowed the conquering hosts entrance to Brussels.

While the trio on the dock continued to frantically return the salutes of their two chums as long as they could distinguish their figures on the hurricane deck of the staunch steamer bound down the Scheldt, a few brief explanations might not come in amiss. Possibly some of those who start to read this book may not have had the pleasure of meeting Rod and his four friends in previous volumes of this series.

The boys who wore the khaki lived in the enterprising town of Garland across the water in the States. How they came by the fine motorcycles they owned would be too long a story to narrate here, and those who are curious about the circumstances must be referred to earlier stories for the details.

They called their organization the Big Five because they planned to carry out numerous enterprises that might have daunted less courageous spirits. Rod Bradley was really the leader, though Elmer Overton, the Southern boy, often proved himself a good second.

Then there were Henry Jucklin, known to all his mates as “Hanky Panky” because of his skill as a magician; Josh Whitcomb, with a bit of the Yankee in his composition; and Christopher Boggs, otherwise “Rooster.”

They had covered many thousands of miles with those wonderful steel steeds, and met with some surprising adventures up to the time when an opportunity arose allowing them to go abroad. A wealthy old gentleman of their town, who knew their calibre well, had given them an important errand to carry out, and stood responsible for their expenses to the other side of the Atlantic.

Coming leisurely down the Rhine country they had been suddenly caught by the war tide; and as it was in Antwerp that Rod expected to meet the party he sought they had to strike out boldly for that far-distant city.

Strange happenings had marked their course through the war-stricken country of Belgium. Indeed, several times it looked very much as though they would never attain their goal, but might be sent back as prisoners of war to Germany.

Of course, their sympathies were mainly with the Allies, and particularly after they had seen with their own eyes how the poor Belgians, fighting heroically to defend their native land, were being cowed by the seemingly limitless legions of the Kaiser.

But in the end they reached Antwerp, and had about decided to make a run down the coast to Boulogne, where they might take a steamer home, when that fatal cable message upset their plans.

Elmer and Rooster would not hear of the others accompanying them home. Josh, too, was really wild to see more of the great war. So finally Rod, finding that Hanky Panky seemed of the same mind, consented to stay over for a week or two longer.

Now that their two chums had left them the boys wandered about the city on the Scheldt and tried to amuse themselves as best they could. But they soon found that ordinary sights no longer availed to satisfy them.

“You see, the war fills the air wherever you go,” explained Josh, to account for this seeming lack of interest. “What does anybody want to go snooping into things that had to do with battles of centuries ago, when the biggest war the world ever knew is raging right now through Northern France and Belgium?”

“Yes, with Great Britain dragged in, and perhaps Italy and other countries to follow, not even excepting our own land,” added Rod, seriously.

“Why,” spoke up Hanky Panky, excitedly, “everywhere you look you see signs of the war game right here in Antwerp. Soldiers are marching through the streets to the cheers of the people. Artillery is dashing this way and that. Armored cars can be seen starting out to harry the enemy with their Maxims. And hardly an hour of the day but half a dozen British or Belgian aeroplanes soar above us, doing all kinds of stunts calculated to make your hair stand on end.”

“It’s the greatest thing that ever happened, barring none,” declared the delighted Josh, looking as though he could almost hug himself, such was his joy; “and let me tell you we’re the lucky boys to be on the spot when history is being made so fast.”

“The party I’m to see for Mr. Amos Tucker,” remarked Rod, “will be in the city to-night. I’ll get that out of my system; and once I send the documents by registered post I’m free for anything that crops up.”

“Hurrah! then we’ll have a chance to climb aboard our wheels again, and strike out for France!” said Josh. “Here’s hoping we may run across a corner of the big fight that’s taking place north of Paris. I’d be a happy fellow if I could actually see those brave Frenchmen, backed up by the British troops, meet the boastful Germans who believe they can clean up the whole world.”

Rod shrugged his shoulders, and made a wry face.

“We’ve already seen something of a battle from a distance, you remember, Josh,” he told the other, “and all of us decided that it was simply terrible. For my part, while I’d like to see the French in action I’m not going out of my way to take chances. The way they fill the air with deadly missiles from quick-firers and with bursting shrapnel gives you a cold feeling.”

“Rod,” said Hanky Panky, who somehow had not been taking part in this talk, “do turn and watch that poor little woman over there. She’s in a peck of trouble, I reckon, by the way she acts, first looking at a paper she’s been reading, and then wiping her eyes with her apron.”

“You mean the one with the dog team, and the tall, brass-mounted milk cans, don’t you, Hanky Panky?” asked Josh quickly. “I saw her a while ago, and heard her speak to