In less than two miles they came to a number of ammunition and transport wagons, parked in the rear of a battery of six guns. A patrol on the road signalled to them to halt. Kenneth pulled up, but before the sergeant could address him, he asked urgently:
"Where is the commandant? Quick! I haven't a minute to lose."
The man pointed to a spot about half a mile in front. Kenneth, without waiting for more, opened out, and the car quickly gained speed.
"It's touch and go now," he said, almost in a whisper.
"The guns are unlimbered for action," said Pariset. "If we pass they'll know we are enemies."
"Nothing else for it," replied Kenneth, setting his teeth. "We must trust to our speed. Keep a look-out, Granger."
Thenceforth he concentrated all his attention upon the car. It sped on, crossed a small bridge over a rivulet, and swept up a short hill on the near side of which six guns were emplaced.
"Eight inchers," murmured Granger. He had his eye fixed on the officer who had been pointed out as the commandant, and who, at this moment, was listening at the receiver of a field telephone. As the car approached he dropped the receiver and gave an order. The soldier next him ran towards the guns, shouting to the artillerymen, who appeared to be laying their weapons.
"The game is up!" said Granger. "He's had word of us. Press her, Amory."
Kenneth opened the throttle to the utmost, and the car leapt forward like a living thing. It dashed past the commandant, past the group of gunners, topped the rise, and thundered down the slope beyond. A few revolver shots rattled on the armour.