The Belgians to the Front

E-text prepared by Al Haines


In the great public square of the ancient city of Liege, in Belgium, a troop of Belgian Boy Scouts stood at attention. Staffs in hand, clad in the short knickerbockers, the khaki shirts and the wide campaign hats that mark the Boy Scout all over the world, they were enough of a spectacle to draw the attention of the busy citizens of Liege, who stopped to watch them admiringly. Their scoutmaster, Armand Van Verde, had been addressing them. And now in the fading light of the late afternoon, he dismissed them.
At once the troop broke up, first into patrols, then into small individual groups of two or three. The faces of the scouts were grave for it was serious news indeed that Van Verde had communicated to the troop at the meeting just ended. Paul Latour called sharply to his great friend, Arthur Waller.
Come on, Arthur, he said. We'd better be getting along home. There may be something for us to do.
All right, agreed Arthur, cheerfully. He was a little younger than his chum, and was nearly always willing to agree to anything Paul proposed.
The two boys were not natives of Liege. However, they spent their summers with relatives who lived in the country a few miles beyond the limits of the famous old town, in the direction of the village of Esneux. They themselves came from Brussels, and, while not themselves related, were both cousins of the family which they were now visiting, that of M. de Frenard.
So now, striking out with a good, swinging pace, they made their way rapidly through the streets of the old town of Liege, narrow and crooked, once they were beyond the great square. They passed over the new Exposition Bridge and so to the new town of Liege, where the great steel works of Seraing were beginning to cast red reflections against the darkening sky.
They have begun to work all night long, said Arthur.
It's a good thing, too, said Paul, soberly. If there is to be a war, as Mr. Van Verde says, we may need all the guns they can turn out.