Down the main street of the ruined village rode a troop of Belgian lancers, followed by a motor-car on which was mounted an automatic gun. Seeing two men in Uhlan uniforms surrounded by a mob of angry peasants, the officer in charge ordered his men to halt, and rode up to ascertain the cause of the commotion.
As he did so, Kenneth recognized him as one of the officers who took part in trapping the Uhlans after their raid on Tongres.
"A nous, mon capitaine!" he said in a loud, clear voice.
"What have we here?" exclaimed the officer in astonishment; then recalling Kenneth's features he continued: "The English soldier in Uhlan uniform! What is the meaning of it all?"
In as few words as possible Kenneth related the circumstances that led to their present condition.
When he had finished, the captain turned to the leading villager.
"Monsieur le maire," he said. "I will be answerable for these two Englishmen. Believe me, in your zeal for your country's good you have slightly overstepped the bounds. Fortunately there is no real harm done, and messieurs les Anglais will no doubt forgive an unintentional injury."
The Mayor, who had meanwhile readjusted his sash, saluted the lancer captain, then held out his hand to Kenneth.
"Pardon, camarade," he said.
Now that the danger was over, both lads felt able to accept the deep apologies of the peasants. The latter had been labouring under a genuine grievance, and their somewhat high-handed action would admit of an excuse. They were quaking in their shoes lest their former prisoners should take steps to secure their punishment; but finding themselves magnanimously treated, they responded with three hurrahs for England and the two men who had come from that country to aid stricken Belgium in her troubles.