The lads understood. He had spelt the German name for the town of Aix-la-Chapelle. His progress, then, had been very slow—sixteen hours to cover about twelve miles.
"That's Aubel," whispered Kenneth, pointing to a group of houses showing up against the sky. "We must cross the line here."
A hurried consultation followed, in which it was decided that Kenneth should take the lead, the others following at twenty paces interval.
As they approached the line of telegraph posts Kenneth made his way ahead and dropped on his hands and knees. In this position he covered the hundred yards that separated him from the railway. He listened. There was no mistaking the sound he heard. The noise of heavily-nailed boots treading slowly upon the frosty permanent-way was drawing nearer.
The lad crawled back to his chum, and both threw themselves flat upon the ground. The Northumberland man did likewise.
Presently two greatcoated figures came into view; German soldiers with rifles on their shoulders. The pale light glinted on the fixed bayonets. When opposite the spot where the fugitives were hiding, the guards stopped, grounded their weapons, and swung their arms. In spite of their heavy coats they were chilled to the bone.
The Germans showed no haste in proceeding on their patrol. To the shivering Englishmen it seemed as if they were deliberately prolonging their stay.
In spite of his frantic efforts the Northumberland Fusilier gave vent to a half-smothered cough. Almost simultaneously the Germans recovered their arms and fired in the direction of the hiding trio.
Suppressing an insane desire to break away and run for dear life, the three lay still. If the patrol had heard any suspicious sound they did not act further upon it, for after a few more minutes they sloped arms and tramped stolidly in the direction of Aubel.
Once again Kenneth crawled towards the railway. The way was now clear. Without being challenged he crossed the rails, and dropped down the embankment beyond. Here he was speedily joined by his companions.