"Good heavens! Look!" ejaculated Kenneth.
The men were limping painfully. One had his arm thrown around a comrade's neck, and his head falling limply upon the other's shoulder. Another, his head bound by a blood-stained scarf, was using the butt of his rifle as a crutch.
"There's been an action already," said Rollo.
"Yes, and on the Visé road," added his companion. "Let's push on. I hope we are not too late."
During the slowing-down process the thunder of the guns became horribly distinct. There was terrific firing in the direction of Argenteau. More, there were heavy Belgian losses, for the men they had just passed were but the van of a ghastly procession of wounded.
At Argenteau a body of reserves was in possession of the village. Barricades had been hastily constructed, walls of buildings loopholed, and barbed-wire entanglements placed across the road.
"Halte-là!"
Rollo came to a standstill with the point of a Belgian bayonet within a couple of inches of his chest. Kenneth, who was twenty yards in the rear, almost as promptly alighted.
"Qui v'là?" demanded the sentry.
"Dispatches for Captain Leboeuf," replied Kenneth.