The plank across the ditch was about nine inches wide. In places it was worn to such an extent that there were holes in the wood. Kenneth eyed it with obvious distrust, yet it seemed the only likely means of gaining the open country beyond, across which a footpath promised fairly easy going.
"I didn't know that it was so rotten as that," said Rollo apologetically. "I don't know whether it will bear the weight of the bike."
"We'll risk it anyhow," declared Kenneth. "Can you put your foot to the ground without much pain? You can? Good! Steady the jigger a second."
Unhesitatingly Kenneth jumped into the ditch. He sank above his ankles in mud, with the water up to his thighs, yet he was able to keep the motor-cycle in an upright position while Rollo, steadying himself by means of the saddle, pushed it along the creaking plank.
"That looks bad," commented Kenneth, pointing to a small object lying on the ground. It was a brass button from the tunic of a Prussian soldier. Some of the enemy had passed that way, and were consequently between the lads and the Belgian lines.
"We may find a gap," declared Rollo, for by this time he was whole-heartedly devoted to the carrying out of his comrade's plans. "If it comes to the pinch we will have to abandon the bike."
"Steady, old man!" said Kenneth in mock reproof. "Because you lost your motor-cycle there is no reason why you should suggest my doing likewise. Now, jump up."
Kenneth maintained a moderate pace, keeping a bright look-out for any indications of the invaders. Judging by the state of the path and the ground for a few yards on either side, a regiment had recently passed that way, marching in fours. That meant that they were some distance from the supposed firing-line, otherwise the men would have advanced in open order. From the north came the distant rumble of guns. An action was in progress in the neighbourhood of Diest and Aerschot.
"Look out!" suddenly exclaimed Rollo. "There's a Taube."
"Where?" enquired his companion, slipping the handkerchief from over his mouth.