"But the hay may be for their horses."
"Not very likely. It must have been definitely requisitioned, and they wouldn't dare to touch it."
Pariset pondered. A faint sound came from the depths of the wood.
"It's our only chance," he said, "but in ten minutes we may have lances or bullets through us. A la bonne heure!"
[CHAPTER XV--HUNS AT PLAY]
The wagon rumbled heavily along the road. The two men stood just within the wood, watching the driver and the soldier, looking up and down the road with a half-formed fear that more troops would come in sight. They allowed the wagon to pass them; then, running behind it on tiptoe, they leapt up, and plunged into the hay, which was loosely piled, just as it had been pitched down from a looted rick.
They burrowed their way through the scented mass, drawing it closely behind them to cover their tracks. The creaking of the cart wheels, the loud tramp of the big Flemish horses, the sleepiness of the men in front were all in their favour. They reached the forepart of the wagon without having attracted attention. Kenneth's nostrils itched. It was lucky, he thought, that the hay was dry and the season far advanced, or a fit of sneezing would have betrayed him.
To get air, and to enable them to see down the road, they made little gaps in the hay, scarcely broader than two fingers. Then they lay still, happy in their escape from the Uhlans, but desperately anxious about what might come.
The wagon was travelling towards Luxemburg. Presently, muffled by the hay, the sound of men's voices reached their ears. These continued for some minutes; no doubt they proceeded from the Uhlans in the wood. After about twenty minutes they heard a louder voice, close at hand. The wagon stopped.
"Have you seen two officers?" asked a man in German. "Dressed as Germans. One a lean ugly fellow, the other a round moon-faced baby. They are spies."