"Do you call war between Germany and France and Russia nothing, old fellow?"
"I wasn't referring to that," replied Kenneth. "Of course it is. The Russians will simply walk over Prussia while the Germans are trying to batter the French frontier forts. No; what I meant is, why should we be balked in going to Liége? We'll go, and risk it—though I don't believe there is any risk. If there is, so much the better for us."
"Perhaps that Belgian officer knows more than he told us."
"Or else less. I'll tell you what, Rollo. We'll see what's doing at Liége; then, if there's time, we'll run back almost to the French frontier and see what the excitement is like there. Let's make another start."
The suggestion was quickly put into practice, but progress was tedious and slow. The highway between Namur and Liége was crowded with traffic. Military wagons, both motor-driven and drawn by horses and mules, seemed an unending stream. The rattling of the huge motor-lorries prevented the chauffeurs from hearing any sounds beyond the pulsations of their engines. In vain the two English lads sounded their horns. It was invariably a case of throwing out the clutch and waiting for a favourable moment to dash past, often with a bare yard between the off-side wheel of the powerful lorries and the deep ditch by the side of the road.
There were thousands of troops, too, with their supply-carts; swarms of peasants driving cattle into the fortresses; motor-cars, motor-cycles, and ordinary cycles galore, till Rollo remarked, during one of the enforced halts, that it was ten times worse than Barnet Hill on fair night.
At length, after taking two hours to traverse fifteen miles, the lads came in sight of the town of Huy. Here the traffic lessened slightly, and Kenneth called for an increased speed.
Suddenly Rollo saw his companion's cycle slip from under him. It was all he could do to avoid coming into collision with the prostrate mount. When he pulled up and dismounted, Kenneth was regaining his feet.
"Hurt?" asked Barrington laconically, yet with considerable anxiety.
"Not a bit," replied Kenneth cheerfully. "Only barked my knuckles. Get up, you brute!"