Horace was conscious of a sudden desire to drive straight into his foe and scatter his brains on the road, but prudence reminded him that, in such case, he might not be able to control his machine. Ignoring vengeance, he shot between the soldiers like a thunderbolt and was half a mile or more ahead when the Uhlans reached the farmhouse.
He turned off a side-road not marked on his map, and, seeing an old peasant working in his fields, halted to secure information as to a possible route.
"Have any Germans passed here?" he asked.
"Just before daybreak, they did," the old man answered. "Saxons, they were. They didn't do me any harm, though. They went over the fields that way," and he pointed to the left.
"Is there any road from here to Walcourt?" the boy asked, studying his map, fearing that his road was cut off entirely.
"There's a foot-path," said the peasant, "but it's too narrow for that machine of yours."
"Has any one gone that way?"
"Only some children."
"I'll tackle it," said Horace, remembering the way in which Croquier and he had slipped through all the German armies by keeping away from the roads. Any foot-path, however narrow and stony, was better than encountering the Saxon advance-guard.