The Belgians to the Front | Page 3

we Belgians. I believe we can give them something to think about."
Paul smiled a little sadly. He understood the true facts, the real possibilities, better than his friend.
"If it comes to fighting, we will do our part," he said, "but we should be helpless against Germany alone, Arthur. The only thing we could do would be to try to hold them back long enough for the French and the English to come to our aid. Either that, or we would have to let them pass through without resisting them."
"So that they could fall on France? But that would be treachery!" said Arthur, indignantly. "I have heard of that treaty of neutrality. We are safeguarded from attack, but we are forbidden to allow the troops of a country that is at war to pass through our territory. If it was the French who talked of invading us to reach Germany, I should say that we must fight them."
"Yes, you're right, Arthur," said Paul. "I think we should make any sacrifice to keep faith. But be sure that it will be a terrible sacrifice, if we must make it."
"Look there!" whispered Arthur, suddenly. "Someone started up just now from behind the bushes. A man--and he is running away from us!"
"After him!" cried Paul. "It looks--yes, it is the man I spoke of!"
They ran as hard as they could, shouting as they went, in the hope that someone might intercept the fugitive. But he had too good a start, and in a few moments he had distanced them by climbing a rail fence and disappearing into a thicket that came down to the edge of a field.
"No use!" said Paul, disgustedly. "He got away from us. But I don't suppose it would have done us any good to catch him. We couldn't have done anything--hello!"
He ended with an exclamation of surprise, and stooped over. They were at the foot of the fence the flying figure had climbed a moment before.
"What is it, Paul?" asked Arthur, eagerly.
"This!" said Paul. He held up a small black pocket-book, and from it he took a package of papers, wrapped in oil silk. "I struck against it with my foot! I wonder if that man who was running could have dropped it?"
It was almost dark by this time; too dark, at any rate, for them to be able to see the papers. But then Arthur remembered the pocket flashlight he carried and produced it, switching on the light.
"Let's have a look," he said.
They unwrapped the oil silk covering. And, at the first sight of what was within it, they gasped. They were holding in their hands a complete sketch of the fort of Boncelles, the most important of the works defending Liege to the southwest. Before they could examine it more fully there was a shout from the fence. The spy had missed his papers. They saw him for a moment. But now it was their turn to run.
CHAPTER II
THE MARKED PLANS
The fierce shouting of the man as he called on them to stop did not terrify either of the scouts, but it did confirm Paul's guess. There could no longer be any doubt that his presence meant mischief; that he was indeed a spy. Or else why should he have such papers? Why, again, should their loss so greatly disturb him?
There was not a chance for him to catch them. Well as he might know the country, they knew it better. They had played in these fields and woods since they had been able to walk at all. Every hollow, every ridge, every tree, almost, was familiar to them. Circling about, they soon reached the garden of their summer home, a fine, spacious house, with ample grounds surrounding it, that belonged to their Uncle Henri de Frenard, whose wealth was derived from his considerable holdings of coal land around Liege.
"Did you get a good look at him, Paul?" gasped Arthur, when at last they felt that it was safe for them to stop running. "I couldn't really make sure of him--"
"I think I'll know him again, Arthur. What I'm wondering is if he'll know us."
"I don't see what difference that makes, except that if he saw us before we saw him, it would give him a chance to escape--"
"We're more likely to be trying to escape from him than he from us, I'm afraid, Arthur, for a little while. If the Germans are spying as openly as all that, it must mean that they're getting ready to come into Belgium. They wouldn't take such chances unless they felt that it didn't make any difference now."
"Don't you think we could find him, Paul? If we could, we could have him arrested, I think."
"Don't say a word--yet," cautioned Paul. "Uncle Henri would only laugh at us. Let's wait until