The Belgians to the Front | Page 9

least so it seemed then.
Now the man whose approach had alarmed Arthur came in sight. He was trudging along, looking like a veritable peasant. But, now, in the light of the suspicions that had been aroused that day, Arthur could see things about this man that distinguished him from the Flemish dwellers in the neighborhood.
"He is a German!" he thought. "What shall I do?"
For the moment he could do literally nothing. He could only lie still and watch the man go up to the front door of the cottage and unlock it. But then, after the German had gone in, Arthur saw that there was still a light--a light that became visible as soon as the pretended peasant lighted his lamp. Plainly the door had not been quite closed; the little streak of light showed that.
Arthur waited breathlessly for some sign that Paul's presence had been discovered. But none came. He was close enough to the door to hear the man in the cottage stamping about, and he could guess, of course, that Paul was concealed in some fashion. He had even the idea of the cellar but of course he could not be sure that Paul was not above--safe as long as it did not enter the German's head to climb the stairs. At any rate, Arthur was grateful for a respite, no matter how brief it might prove to be. Almost anything was better than the actual knowledge that his chum had been caught.
"While there's life, there's hope!" he said to himself, grimly.
But it was a good deal easier for him to determine that he would make some sort of effort to release his chum than it was for him to discover a practical way of doing so. He had the feeling that at any cost to Paul he must secure his own freedom; that was the thing that Paul had impressed most vividly on his mind. At last he determined to risk a trip to the window by which Paul had made his entrance. He wanted to look inside; to see, at least, what was going on. Then some means of helping Paul might suggest itself.
Of course Arthur had seen nothing of the inside of the room, since it had been dark when Paul had climbed in. Now the first thing he saw after the man of the house himself, was the trap door that led to the cellar. He understood at once that Paul must be down there.
"That's why he didn't hear me, of course!" he said to himself. "Now to get him out!"
Suddenly, just as he was about to leave the window, Arthur was startled into a stiff and rigid halt by the sound of a heavy knock on the door of the cottage. The German inside, busy just then in cutting up a huge sausage that was evidently to be his dinner, seemed to be almost as startled as Arthur himself. He jumped up, upsetting his chair, and flung the door open. At once his whole manner changed. He started back, then stiffened himself and stood at attention. A young man, dressed in a uniform of a greenish-gray cloth that Arthur had never seen before, and covered now with dust, walked in. Arthur could scarcely believe his eyes. Everything about the newcomer pointed to the fact that he was a German officer, for if the color of the uniform was unfamiliar, its cut was not. But a German officer in uniform here!
"Zu befehl, Herr Hauptmann!" said the man of the cottage.
"It's come, Froebel," said the captain. He stretched his arms, as if glad of the chance. "I've had a fine trip from Aachen! The worst roads I ever tried to push a motorcycle over! But I'm here--so that's even! There are more coming. General von Emmich's army is on the march already. We have even now taken possession of Luxembourg. To-night the Belgian government finally declined to give us the right to move our troops through their little toy country! So we must fight them, too."
"I'm not sorry," said Froebel. Some of the stiffness had gone out of his manner. "I'll be glad to get a chance to do some fighting instead of this eternal spying! And who knows? If I am lucky, I may get a little swifter promotion than I had hoped for."
"Oh, I forgot," said the other. "Congratulations, Froebel! You have your captaincy, and a staff detail. That's unofficial, of course. But I've seen the order."
"Good," said Froebel, impassively. "But if you stay with the line, Poertner, you'll be a colonel before I'm a major. Enough--to business! I have bad news."
"Bad news? What sort?"
"It's that clumsy fool Ridder! He has been mapping the whole field of operation here, as you know--details of the forts, and the location of all the concealed