A squadron of Belgian cavalry clattered by, and Max shouted to the officer in command that a car containing German officers had just driven off and that a detachment of infantry was only a matter of a few minutes ahead. The officer nodded and pressed on, while Max and Dale cheered the men as they rode eagerly by.
"I think we have seen the last we shall see of Schenk, Dale," Max remarked as they crossed the road and entered the Durend yards.
"Yes, and I don't suppose you, or anyone else in Belgium, will be sorry."
"No; least of all our Walloon workmen. They hated him to a man for his overbearing, tyrannical ways. We are all well rid of him."
The works seemed strangely deserted. The doors of the workshops stood wide open, but inside all was still. The great lathes were just as they had been left, some with shells half turned, indicating the haste with which the attendants had obeyed the call to go. Other hands would doubtless finish the turning, and the shells would be fired at the Germans and not against the armies of the Allies.
"I suppose Schenk will have taken all the firm's cash?" suggested Dale presently.
"Yes, of course. But that will be more than covered by the additions he has made to the buildings and plant since the Germans came. I should think the concern is worth twice as much as when he took it in hand for the Fatherland."
"That's great! No wonder he nearly went out of his mind when he found he must leave it all intact and in first-rate working order for you to enter into. If he lives until he is as old as Methuselah he will never forget it."
"I don't think his German friends will let him forget it. They will find it hard to forgive a bungle that leaves a first-class munition factory absolutely undamaged in the hands of their enemies. I don't envy Schenk his job of persuading them that he couldn't help it."
"Not after the other explanations he has had to make on our account—those siege-gun drawings, the wrecking of the power-house, workshops, etcetera."