Far down the slope two German officers were advancing under a white flag. Coming within hailing distance they called on the garrison to surrender.
"You have seen what our guns can do," said one of them in French. "You have been struck by 278 shells; you cannot reply; and we have still more colossal guns in reserve. Surrender, or you will be annihilated."
The commandant, wounded as he was, half choked by the foul gases that still clung about the place, stepped forward and gave his answer.
"Honour forbids us to surrender: we shall resist to the end."
The garrison waved their caps and cheered. A nation whose stricken soldiers showed such a spirit could never be quelled, thought Kenneth. The Germans laughed and withdrew. In half an hour the bombardment recommenced, this time from two directions. The men in their galleries listened helplessly to the destruction of their world.
Darkness fell, and except for an occasional shot the bombardment ceased. The commandant sent for Pariset.
"It is useless," he said wearily. "Their shells will pierce the galleries to-morrow. One of my men has already had his hand blown off; others are seriously wounded. To-night I shall flood the magazines and break all the rifles and guns; in the morning I must surrender. But you and your friend are not of my garrison: there is work for you outside; why should you be carried prisoners to Germany? Slip out in the darkness. There are no infantry around the fort. I can provide you with civilian dress. It will be dangerous to attempt to get into Liége. Make for Seraing, cross the river there, and slip between the Flemalle and Hollogne forts towards Brussels. And tell General Wonters that we held out until resistance was hopeless."
Towards midnight the two friends in peasant costume slipped out of the rear of the fort, and taking the stars as their guide trudged through the fields and woods and up the hill into the deserted streets of Seraing. The great iron-foundries were silent; no glare from the furnaces lit the sky.
"Belgium is paying a heavy price," thought Kenneth.
They crossed the silent bridge in the moonlight, crossed the Namur road and the railway beyond, and had just reached the road leading through Waremme and Louvain to Brussels when the sound of voices on their right caused them to shrink back behind a hedge. Peering out they saw a patrol of some twenty-five Uhlans riding past at a foot pace.