And the red-faced young Lieutenant, thinking I did not understand, ground his heel angrily, and muttered "Gott!" when his eyes fell on the sausage, and his expression changed as if by magic.
"Wurst?" he ejaculated to the General. "Here there sausage is!"
It was quite funny to see the way these two gallant soldiers bent over the sausage, their eyes beaming with greedy joy, and in ten minutes every German was crying out for sausage, and the town was being ransacked in all directions in search of more.
CHAPTER XLIII
SATURDAY
The saddest thing in Antwerp is the howling of the dogs.
Thousands have been left shut in the houses when their owners fled, and all day and night these poor creatures utter piercing, desolate cries that grow louder and more piercing as time goes on.
It is Saturday morning, October 10th.
Strange things have happened.