The inhabitants of Brussels were strangely calm. The fact that the German invaders had gained a firm footing in their country did not drive them into a panic. Possibly events of past history had taught them to regard the overrunning of Belgium as a foregone conclusion when the neighbouring Great Powers were at war. Above all, they continued steadfastly to rely upon the prompt arrival of the British Expeditionary Force, which, in conjunction with their own army and that of the French nation, would quickly send the barbarous Teutons fleeing for their lives across the Rhine.
"Hark!" exclaimed Rollo. "The papers are out. Something important has happened."
The chums had retired early to bed in their modest lodgings of the Rue Pontus, as they had been warned for duty at five on the following morning. Their stock of money, although augmented by their scanty army pay, was visibly dwindling; but after more than a week in bivouacs they were grateful to sleep under a roof, undisturbed by the nerve-shattering roar of hostile guns.
"It can wait till to-morrow," said Kenneth with a prodigious yawn. "I feel too jolly tired——"
The next moment he was out of bed and making for the window, for above the cheering on the Grands Boulevards came the oft-repeated cries of: "The English Army in Belgium".
Hastily scrambling into their clothes, the two excited lads made their way into the street and through the swarm of wildly exuberant citizens. After a struggle they succeeded, at the cost of a franc, in obtaining a copy of one of the local papers, and bore it back to their room in triumph.
In huge letters were the words: "LES ANGLAIS SUR LE CONTINENT", the report being taken from the French paper, Le Journal, dated Thursday, the 13th August:—
"By our Special Correspondent.—For several days the valiant British troops, who are to co-operate with our soldiers to repel the German aggression in Belgium, have been crossing the Straits. Kept back at first by the risks of a naval combat which the English fleet was waiting to offer, in the North Sea, to the principal units of the enemy marine, the disembarkation has now taken place in perfect order and with surprising regularity. Up to the present the contingents sent forward in the direction of Namur are considerable.
"Under the favour of darkness and in great mystery the transports were organized. During Saturday night, by small detachments all along the Belgian coast from Ostend to Zeebrugge, the steamers chartered by the British Admiralty disembarked at first a small army, which moved before dawn to the position allotted to it. Farther south, that same night, semaphores signalled the arrival of mysterious ships, which, after a brief stay, returned towards English shores. On the following day, too, at the same hour, similar operations and disembarkations took place with such rapidity and such silence that the inhabitants saw nothing."
"Sounds promising," remarked Rollo thoughtfully. "But this is Friday. Do you think it likely that our troops have been on Belgian soil for nearly a week and this is the first we've heard of it?"