"Follow after me," Rob told them, as he started to urge his horse across where he could see the old ford had been.
Little of the material from the wrecked bridge had been thrown to any distance, so the ford was not blocked. The horses still displayed more or less restlessness, as though they could not understand that, with such a smell of choking gases in the air, the danger was all over. The three boys, however, had had considerable experience in handling balky animals, and knew just how to urge them on.
Once on the other side, they started up the bank. As they arrived at the road, having crossed the abyss, they saw a crowd of men hurrying toward the spot. They were partly Belgian soldiers, it turned out, along with some civilians, possibly men versed in explosives or strategy to be employed to delay the advance of the German artillery.
Of course, they were very much excited at meeting the boys. The khaki uniforms seemed to soften their anger to some extent, but one who appeared to be in authority started to scold them for walking so blindly into a trap.
Through the guide Rob hastened to explain how it came they had not suspected the truth. Then as questions began to follow, he also told who and what they were, even mentioning something concerning their self-imposed mission into the danger zone of the fighting.
When the precious passport, written out by the good burgomaster, was shown, it had an additional soothing effect. The man in charge of the squad of destruction smiled and nodded as he perused the document, written in French.
"He say burgomaster his uncle!" explained Antonio, after the other had handed the paper back, and made some remark.
"Well, now, that's what I call fine. Tell him we're glad we got out from under that bridge in time," said Rob, "and also that we think he made a clean sweep of the job."
This seemed to please the Belgian officer, for he insisted on shaking hands all around. Feeling that they were now free to proceed, the scouts resumed their journey along the road that led to Brussels; probably, wholly in the hands of the invaders further on toward the capital, since rumor had it that immense numbers of German troops were daily being moved toward Ghent.