"Well, what will they treat us as?" cried Shaw sharply.
"As belligerents, of course. We shall be disarmed and interned, and our fighting days will be over."
"Yes, Shaw," interposed Peck. "The lad's right, and we have played the fool in lashing out at the Germans right agin the frontier. You're too headstrong, Shaw. The lad was running this show. Why didn't you leave him alone?"
"Pooh! If we drop our tools, and march across, the Dutchmen will let us go," replied the discomfited Shaw apologetically. "Let's try it on anyway."
"Nay, nay, Shaw," cried the Scot in a deep voice. "Ye've spoiled this business, and ye'd better let be. The lad has the best heid, and let him have his way over it. Come, lad, what say ye—what's oor next move?"
It was certainly time for a move of some sort. On both flanks of the party desultory firing had commenced. The sentries posted along the frontier had doubtless been attracted by the sound of the fighting at their head-quarters and were straggling inwards, exchanging dropping shots with the men on the outskirts of the band. As their numbers increased, a regular battle would ensue, finally compelling the band to surrender, or to cross the frontier and be interned.
Max had no mind to be interned, whatever Shaw felt on the subject. His great task of guarding the Durend workshops was still waiting for him to complete, and were he put out of action it was certain that no one else would carry it on. Shaw had made a great mistake, but it was possibly not irretrievable. At any rate, Max believed it could be set right by prompt and resolute action.
"Come, then," he said firmly. "If you still wish to fight again for your country, follow me, and I will do my best to keep you from losing the chance. You must be silent and watchful and make the best speed possible. Exert yourselves to the utmost for three or four hours, and then I hope we may be safe again. Come—fall in in single file, with the prisoners in the centre, and follow me. Exchange no shots unless I give the word. If you are attacked, use the bayonet, and the bayonet only."
There was a murmur of general assent and a quick bustle as the men fell in. Several were slightly wounded, but only two sufficiently so to need any assistance. Two men took their stand by each of these, and as Max led the way inland from the frontier, through the open country, these assisted them to keep up with the others.
Max kept the German farmer close by his side. The man knew the country well, and Max gave him to understand that his comrades would be very glad indeed of an excuse to strafe him. The man certainly had no reason to disbelieve him. The wild, fierce looks of the men, the assured way in which they marched through an enemy's country, and the pitched battle, ending in the burning of a German post, just fought were enough to convince him that he had to deal with men who were nothing if not determined. At any rate, Max had no trouble with him, and found him a ready and reliable guide all through the night.