As for the observer, he was found severely wounded, one of the heavy revolver bullets having passed completely through his shoulder.
"Now, what's to be done?" asked Rollo, as the lads ejected the expended ammunition and reloaded their revolvers.
"Carry on with the dispatch, of course," replied Kenneth. "We can do no more here. Hello! Here are the Belgian cavalry."
Up rode a patrol of lancers. Dismounting, and leaving their horses in charge of one-third of their number, the men advanced. The officer in charge took in the situation at a glance, for the twelve empty revolver cartridges on the ground told their own tale.
"You had better proceed; enough time has already been wasted," he said, when he learnt the mission of the dispatch-riders. "We will attend to these."
"That's a nasty knock," observed Rollo ruefully, as they hurried back to their motor-cycles.
"H'm, yes," admitted his companion reluctantly. "Perhaps the chap was a bit nettled because his men didn't bag the Taube."
But as they rode past the scene of their exploit the Captain called his men to attention—a tribute to the resource and daring of the British lads. Already the Belgian cavalrymen had shown signs of their humanity, for by means of their lances two stretchers had been improvised, and the wounded aviators were on the way to one of the hospitals in the beleaguered city.