During the following day the band hid themselves in a copse and slept. It was nearly dark when Max aroused them and told them they must go on.

"We've been travelling a good many miles, lad," remarked Shaw carelessly. "Where are we now?"

"In Germany," replied Max.

"Germany!" cried the Corporal, his carelessness vanishing. "Why—what d'ye mean? D'ye think we want to find a good safe prison?"

"No. Your men insist on one more attack on the Germans, as a reprisal for the burning of the village. Well, we cannot do anything in Belgium, for it would only mean another village burned. If we make the attack in Germany it will be different. They can hardly burn down their own villages."

Corporal Shaw held out his hand. "Well done, lad!" he cried heartily, and the other men within ear-shot echoed his words. "That's a stroke of genius, and we are with you to a man. What are you going to attack—nothing less than Metz, of course?"

Max smiled and shook his head. "Something a little less ambitious will have to do, I think. After another night march we shall be on the spot, and can get to work."

"What are you going to do, lad?"

Max hesitated a moment. Should he keep the men ignorant of the nature of the enterprise until the hour for it had struck? It was hardly worth while—in forty-eight hours or so it would be all over.

"To block the main line between Aix and Liege," he answered simply.

"Phew! I think you mentioned wild-cat exploits the other day. What sort of cat exploit is this?"

"It must be carefully planned beforehand."

"Humph! Trains filled with troops passing every five minutes; the lines thick with guards. It'll want careful planning—and a trifle more. In fact, it'll need the devil's own luck. What say you, boys?"

"No matter, Corp," cried Peck testily. "Give the lad his head. We ain't particular, so long as it's a fust-class scrap."

"It'll be all that," grunted Shaw.

"Did we expect to git out of this show alive?" retorted Peck. "What's the odds? Let the lad 'ave his way—he's grubbed us well anyhow."

The other men murmured an assent, and it was clear that most of the band were quite ready to follow Max in an attempt, however desperate, on the Germans' main line of communication. The Frenchmen were quite ready to agree to anything that would lead to another encounter with the enemy in company with their British comrades, and so Max was left in possession of the field and charged with full responsibility for the tremendous task before them.

* * * * *

Two days later the whole of the band arrived safely within a mile or so of the great main line which runs between Aix-la-Chapelle and Liege, and then on through Namur to Paris. A stoppage to their communications on this line would disconcert the Germans in a way that hardly anything else could do, and Max, from the knowledge he had gained, while at Liege, of the great trains loaded with troops and munitions that constantly passed through at all hours of the day and night, was very well aware of it. Next to his darling scheme for the frustration of the Germans' plans as regards the Durend works, the breaking of the great railway through the town had seemed the most serious blow that could be aimed at the Germans by a few men working independently of the great military forces of the Allies. It was a difficult matter, but not impossible. That was enough.

Max and Dale, accompanied by Shaw, reconnoitred the railway after hiding their men well away out of sight. The first point reached Max did not consider suitable, and it was not until they had approached the line at several different places that he found a spot that satisfied him. This spot was one where the line passed along a fairly deep cutting, the sides of which were thickly overgrown with bushes with here and there a young tree. It was a spot at which it would be easy to approach the line unseen. And yet this was not Max's chief reason for selecting it. His design had been to find a spot where the line at night-time would have dark patches of shadow cast upon it here and there.

Dale and Corporal Shaw now returned to the spot where the band had been left in hiding, while Max set out for Aix-la-Chapelle alone. He still wore the workman's clothes in which he had masqueraded for so long, and, with his excellent knowledge of the German tongue, he had little to fear so long as he took care not to blunder into a military patrol. Without misadventure he reached Aix, and purchased a dozen spanners similar to those used by plate-layers, except that the handles were short and lacked the great leverage necessary for their work. This difficulty would, however, be easily got over by cutting stout rods from the woods and lashing them to the short spanners. The tools thus obtained would, he knew, be fully suited to the end in view.

The reconnoitring of the railway had disclosed the fact that the guards were stationed only about eighty yards apart. Also that they were changed every four hours, at four o'clock, eight o'clock, midnight, and noon.

An hour before midnight Max led the band towards the line at the point fixed upon. He had already, at some pains, explained exactly what he desired each man to do, and from their intelligent eagerness felt pretty well assured that they would not fail from want of zeal or knowledge of the part they had to play. To the Frenchmen he, of course, explained matters in their own tongue, and found them equally as ready as their Island brethren.

The moon, what there was of it, was fairly low in the heavens, and the long shadows Max counted upon so largely in his plans were much in evidence. Silence was another factor of importance, and the feet of all the men were swathed in long strips of cloth—their puttees in the case of the British soldiers, and strips from their clothing in the case of the Frenchmen.

The band was divided into three groups, and the orders were that on arriving at the edge of the cutting all were to remain motionless in hiding until the guards were changed at midnight. Then three men from each band were to creep up close to one of the three sentries marked down for attack, and wait for an opportunity to seize and kill or capture him without raising an alarm.

The latter point Max insisted upon as of the utmost importance. The groups of three might spend two hours, even three hours, he told them, so long as they performed their task without making a noise that would attract the attention of the sentries on either side. The darkness of the line, from the shadows of the trees and bushes and the deepness of the cutting itself, Max felt he could rely upon to prevent the other sentries from seeing if aught were amiss. The important thing, therefore, was that they should perform their task without noise.

Promptly at midnight the sentries were changed. The momentary bustle was, as arranged carefully beforehand by Max, taken advantage of by the groups of three to creep close up to their objectives. Then things settled down again in quietude. All was peaceful and silent between the thunder of the trains, and time was allowed the sentries to grow accustomed to their surroundings and to develop any individual habits of carelessness that might be theirs. At first the men marched to and fro rather frequently. Later, they contented themselves with leaning on their rifles and making themselves as comfortable as such a position would allow. There had been no attacks on any part of the line in Germany so far as had become known, and there was no reason in the world why these line guards should expect one now.

One of the sentries presently came to a halt in the shadow cast by a tree. He was thus out of sight of his comrades on either side, and the three men in deadly attendance upon him were satisfied that their chance had come. Noiselessly emerging from the shadows, they stole upon him from behind. One seized him by the throat in a grip of iron, stifling all utterance, another pinioned his arms to his sides, while the third caught the rifle which fell from his startled hand. Between the three the struggles of the unfortunate sentry were quickly mastered. He was securely pinioned, gagged, and dragged out of harm's way into the shelter of the bushes.

The capture of one made the capture of the two others comparatively easy. It was only necessary to await a moment when the farther sentinel was facing away from the next man marked down for attack, before springing upon him. One after the other the three guards were successfully placed out of action, and the stern work of reprisal was at hand.

As a precautionary measure, two men, wearing the tunics and helmets of the captured Germans, were stationed as sentries one at each end of the break, to satisfy their German neighbours in case they should miss the sight of the comrades who had gone.

Then rapidly Max selected two pairs of rails, one pair on the up-line and one on the down-line, and the dozen great spanners were quickly at work. Certain of the nuts of the rails and of some of the chairs were carefully loosened a little, and everything was made ready to shift one end of each rail as soon as the signal should be given. Then the men withdrew once more to the obscurity of the bushes.

Having satisfied himself that everything was in readiness, Max settled himself to watch the trains as they passed, and to seize upon the essential moment. Trains were now running less frequently than at every hour in the twenty-four, and in the comparative silence he could tell when a train was approaching while it was yet some miles away. It was his intention to await the almost simultaneous approach of two trains from opposite directions, and in steady patience he waited.

His men did not know the full extent of his plans and were impatient to see the result of their—to them—successful labours. They could not understand this halt, and grumbled under their breath at the strange hesitancy of their young leader. But everything had gone so well under his guidance that none of them dared to express his discontent aloud, and Max was left to put the finishing touch upon his plans in peace.

Suddenly his ear caught the sounds he had been awaiting.

"Forward!" he commanded in an undertone in two languages.

The men sprang quickly on to the lines and wrestled with the nuts and bolts with all their might. In a very short space of time the rails were loose at one end and the chairs removed. Then Max gave the word for all four rails to be levered inwards, towards the centre of the track, until the loose ends were a foot out of line with the other rails.

The chairs were then roughly refixed at the extreme ends of the sleepers, and the bent rails bolted as firmly as possible in their new positions. While this was being done the four rails next the gaps were unbolted and entirely removed. When all was done there was a break 40 feet long in each track, and the pair of rails on the side from which the trains were approaching had been bent inwards, and now pointed towards the corresponding pair on the other track, thus:—



For the first time the men now understood the whole significance of the work they were doing. They had known enough of their young leader's plans to expect much, but now they expected a great deal more and moved off the track full of suppressed excitement and jubilation. Like a pistol-shot it had come to them that the brutal destruction of the poor village beyond Bastogne was about to be very amply revenged indeed.

The rumble of the two trains approaching from opposite directions was now drawing very close, and the men hung about in the bushes, a few yards up the side of the cutting, watching eagerly for any sign that the drivers had seen the short breaks in the line and were bringing their trains to a standstill. But there was no sign of this. The trains approached at a steady speed, and the drivers, if on the look-out, noticed nothing amiss in the patches of deeper shadow in the half darkness of the gloomy cutting.

The two trains reached the fatal spot almost at the same moment. Both followed the direction of the tampered rails and left the track with a bumping grind that made those who heard it shudder. Then they collided with a crash that could be heard for miles. The engines reared up almost on end—as though in a desperate attempt to leap over one another—and rolled over on their sides. Behind them the great wagons still drove on and piled themselves up on high in a welter of hideous confusion.

The noise, the confusion, the sense of dire destruction, were almost paralysing; but, almost without being conscious of it, Max found himself eagerly scanning the wrecked wagons to see what they contained. The "bag" was one sufficient to satisfy the most ardent patriot. The trucks, or some of them, of the train bound outwards to Liege clearly contained the guns of several heavy batteries. Those of the inward train were filled with machinery and other stores filched from the great Belgian workshops and being transferred to Germany to set up fresh works there. A few of the trucks of the inward train appeared to contain shells, and these Max marked down as the point for the final attack.

The noise of the collision, of course, brought all the men guarding the line, within hearing, hurrying to the scene. None of them, or of the survivors of those on the trains, had any thought that the catastrophe was anything but an accident, and no attempt was made to search for possible enemies. Most of the German soldiers, indeed, flung down their weapons and busied themselves in the task of extricating men and horses from the piles of overturned wagons.

Thus when again, at Max's signal, the band of British and French soldiers left their hiding-places they were able, in the darkness, to mingle with the Germans and go about their final work almost unchallenged. In only two instances were German officers or non-commissioned officers inconveniently inquisitive, and those difficulties were solved by an instant attack with the bayonet. Even these conflicts were insufficient to attract special attention amid the general turmoil. Any who noticed the actions might readily enough have concluded that they were the result of a quarrel or of some demented victim of the accident attacking an imaginary foe.

The work which still kept Max and his auxiliaries on the dangerous scene of their successful exploit was that of bringing down great bundles of straw and dead wood, prepared some time beforehand, from the top of the railway cutting where they had been hidden in readiness. The wagons, which Max had ascertained to be indeed full of shells, were what they were after, and against these the bundles were piled. Almost unmolested the exulting men made all ready for the final blow which should set the seal upon their terrible reprisal.

And yet, when it came to the point, Max hesitated to give the order to fire the pyre. There might yet be some unfortunate men pinned alive beneath the wreckage, and he was unwilling to add to their miseries the dreadful fate of being burned alive. For ten, fifteen, and almost twenty minutes he waited, until he could feel satisfied that none were likely still to remain alive beneath the pile. His own men indeed, well knowing what was coming, had busied themselves in dragging out their fallen foes from the certain fate which would otherwise have befallen them, forgetting their desire for reprisals in their pity for wounded and helpless men.

At last the moment arrived. Max gave the word, the straw was fired, and the band beat a hasty retreat to the shelter of the bushes on the north side of the cutting.

A loud cry of warning and alarm arose from the German soldiers as the flames shot up into the air, illuminating the track for many yards around. A harsh command rang out, and a number of men dashed forward to beat or stamp out the flare.

"Those men must be kept away, Corporal," cried Max quickly. "We must not leave until the fire has got firm hold."

"Bayonets, men," cried Corporal Shaw sharply. "Get ready to charge home."

"No, no, Corporal," cried Max, seizing him by the arm; "no bayonet fighting this round. Keep them away by rifle-fire from the bushes. They know nothing of us now; let them remain as ignorant as possible."

"Right. Ten rounds, rapid, boys! Ready! present! fire!"

The Germans had barely reached the fire and begun to pull away the burning faggots, when a sudden and withering hail of bullets swept down upon them. Half of them fell at once, and the remainder recoiled in confusion and doubt. Fire seemed to spit from the darkness all about them, and none knew for the moment whether they were in the presence of a foe, or whether a detachment of their own men, but just arrived, had taken them for enemy wreckers. Long before the officer in command could rally his men, push out scouts to ascertain the cause of the rifle-fire, and set the main body to resume their task, the fire had caught such firm hold that it was obvious to all that at any moment the shells might explode.

A general stampede away from the vicinity of the burning wagons ensued, and at a respectful distance the discomfited Germans gazed at the fire or occupied themselves in firing in the direction apparently taken by their unseen foes.

Suddenly, with an ear-splitting roar, the shells exploded. The concussion was tremendous, and huge showers of shells, broken bits of wagons, gravel, and flaming wood fell heavily in all directions. Many of those looking on were killed outright by the avalanche of falling material, and the remainder fled in mad panic from the deadly scene.

Max had already withdrawn his men beyond the edge of the cutting and marched them a couple of hundred yards farther down the line. The explosion caused them no casualties beyond a few minor cuts and bruises, and, with one last look at the track beneath them, they turned their backs upon the place and marched silently away towards the Dutch frontier.

The work of reprisal for a foul deed was done. Where the explosion had taken place an enormous crater had been torn in the permanent way. Beyond that the line was blocked by great piles of tangled wreckage which must have weighed hundreds of tons—Krupp guns and gun mountings, twisted almost out of all recognition, masses of machinery ruined beyond redemption, and engines, wagons, rails, and sleepers piled high in inextricable confusion. Many hours, if not days, of unremitting toil would be needed before the line could be reopened for traffic. Thus the main lines of communication of the Germans were severed and a heavy blow struck for the cause of the Allies.

On the trunk of a tree, at the top of the cutting close by, a notice was fixed: "In reprisal for the burning of an innocent village above Bastogne."



CHAPTER XIX

A Further Blow

The point at which the line to Aix had been broken was not far from the Dutch frontier, and for an hour or so Max and the band he led made good progress. Then their difficulties began. The alarm had clearly been given, and a serious alarm it seemed to be. Bodies of troops, and especially cavalry, were on the march in all directions, and it became a matter of the utmost difficulty to avoid contact with them. Finally, Max, as the day dawned, led his men right away into a wide expanse of farm-land, and took them towards a solitary farm-house.

"What's the game now, laddie?" asked Corporal Shaw, as Max led them boldly towards the farm-house, much to the surprise of the farmer and his family, who came out to see what this strange visit of a body of armed men might mean. "Doesn't this give us away to the enemy?"

"We must have rest and food, Corporal," replied Max seriously. "If we surround the farm and keep prisoners all who are there, and detain all who call, we shall be safe if no parties of German soldiers happen to light upon us. If we can get through the day, I think we shall get safely across the frontier. We are only seven miles away, and a few hours of darkness will see us there."

"Good! You know your business, lad, I can see," replied Shaw briskly, and he gave a quick order to his men to spread out at the double and surround the farm. Max interpreted the order to the French soldiers, who promptly followed suit. In a moment or two the farm had been surrounded, and the men began to close in upon it.

The surprise and curiosity of the German farmer and his family quickly turned to fear as the object of the move became apparent. They could now see, too, the faces and equipment of the men converging upon them, and knew that, whatever they might be, they were certainly not soldiers of the Fatherland.

"You're a prisoner, mein Herr," cried Corporal Shaw cheerfully, as he strode up to the burly farmer and slapped him familiarly on the shoulder. "Be good, or it will be the worse for you."

Max interpreted his words, and added the information that neither he nor any of his household were to stir outside the house, or even to look out of the windows. They were to consider themselves close prisoners, and on their good behaviour their own treatment would absolutely depend. The farmer, as soon as he could recover from his astonishment, passed the order on to his family and domestics with a peremptoriness no doubt considerably enhanced by his own lively fears. The Germans filed into the farm-house, followed by all the band except two. These were set on the watch on the roofs of two barns a little distance away on opposite sides of the building.

Max then called upon the farmer to provide a meal for them all, promising him in return fair payment. Soon the whole band, in high good humour, were deep in enjoyment of the best meal they had had since the retreat from Mons and Charleroi began.

During the day there were occasional alarms as bodies of German soldiers were observed scouring the country in the distance, but none approached the farm-house. Several labourers, evidently missing the presence of the farmer, called, and these were promptly made prisoners. At nightfall everything was made ready for the last march.

The women were sent to their rooms and locked securely in. Then the men, seven in number, were marshalled in line and informed that any attempt to give warning to German troops or the authorities would result in instant death. The order to march was given, and, in single file, Max and the farmer leading, with the remainder of the prisoners in the centre, the band moved across country towards the Dutch frontier.

With the aid of the farmer, Max led the band to a point opposite Maastricht, where the frontier ran through a little wood. He hoped that here there would be no difficulty in getting unmolested through the barbed-wire fences everywhere erected along the frontier by the Germans. A road ran across the frontier close by the wood and a post had been established there by the enemy, but Max believed that, favoured by night and the darkness of the wood, there would be no difficulty in eluding observation.

They entered the wood unobserved, and Max halted the band and went forward with Dale and one of the English soldiers to silence the sentry and cut the wire. The sentry was an oldish man, of the Landwehr, and entirely unsuspicious. He was seized by the throat from behind, his rifle snatched from his hand, and his arms and legs securely pinioned. Then his throat was released and his mouth securely gagged. It was all over in ten minutes, and, leaving the soldier and Dale at work upon the wire, Max went back to bring along the rest of the men.

To his consternation he found them on the move, the last files disappearing from the wood in the direction of the German frontier post, two men only being left behind in charge of the prisoners. Running after them, Max caught up the rearmost men, and was told that they were about to attack the Germans and root them out. Much hurt and angered at this sudden reckless move, Max ran forward to the front of the column and accosted Corporal Shaw.

"What is this, Corporal?" he cried. "It was to be my business to get you over the frontier. I don't agree with your attacking the Germans here."

"That's all right, sir," replied Shaw, still pressing on. "We know what we're about. We've reconnoitred the place, and can clear out the whole lot without turning a hair. Come along, lad, and lend a hand."

"No, Shaw, I'm not going to have this. I've breached the wire a few yards away yonder and put the sentry out of action. All we have to do is to walk through and we are safe. This mad attack right on the frontier will——"

"No, no; our fellows will be disappointed if they don't get one more fling at the Germans!" cried Shaw, pressing on as though anxious to get away from Max's protests. "It'll all be over in——"

At this moment the German sentry in front of the building which housed the frontier guard caught sight of dark shadows approaching. He challenged, and almost simultaneously brought his rifle up to his shoulder.

There was a flash and a report, and one of the men just behind Max gave a gasp and staggered. He recovered himself, however, and with the rest of the band charged madly down upon the sentry and the guard, who were now rapidly tumbling out of the entrance of the building, rifle in hand.

The fight that ensued was to Max the most desperate he had ever seen. The French and British soldiers, after all their discomforts and privations and the terrible sights they had witnessed, were burning with the desire to get to close quarters with the Germans and to try conclusions with them. Like a whirlwind they flung themselves upon the hated foe, and, scarcely firing a shot, stabbed and bayoneted with wild and desperate energy.

The Germans who had poured outside the building were cut down in a remarkably short space of time, and, without a pause, the men dashed into the passage and up the stairs, every man striving to be the first to close with the enemy. Against such reckless valour as this the German Landwehr, although they outnumbered their assailants at least two to one, could do nothing, and it could not have been more than eight minutes from the first onrush before the last German had been cut down.

"Set a light to it, boys," commanded Shaw, highly excited with the success of the combat. "Let's have a blaze to light our way across the frontier, and to tell the Germans we bid them farewell."

"Now, boys, three good cheers for the Allies and down with the Germans!"

The huzzas were heartily given as the fire promptly kindled within blazed up. Round the burning house the soldiers danced, flinging into the fire the arms and equipment of their foes. Across the frontier, only a few yards away, the soldiers of the Dutch guard had turned out, and they watched the strange scene with an interest that to one at least of the band of British and French was far from pleasing.

"Fall in!" commanded Shaw, and the men obeyed. "Form fours—right! Now, boys, we've seen our last of Germany for a time, and are going to march into Holland. Soon we shall be back in the armies of the Allies, ready to take part in another march through Germany. Now, then, by the right, quick——"

"One moment, Shaw," cried Max quickly. "You are making a big mistake if you think you can march thus into Holland and also be free to join the armies of the Allies."

"Why so?" cried Corporal Shaw impatiently. "Why can't we? Who's to stop us?"

"The Dutch soldiers will stop you quick enough," replied Max. "Do you think they will treat us as they do escaped prisoners or fugitives after a battle at their very frontier?"

"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.

For nearly two hours the band moved obliquely inland. Then Max turned and aimed once more at the frontier at a point at least ten miles away from the place where the previous attempt had been made.

The German patrols were fewer here, and with only one mishap they reached the frontier. This mishap took place while the party was crossing a high road. Scouts had reported all clear, and all had crossed except the men at the rear, who were helping the wounded along. These were in the middle of the road, when a motorcar, moving at high speed, turned a corner a short distance away and ran rapidly down upon them.

The powerful headlights of the motor of course revealed the little group of men in the roadway. Brakes were applied, and the machine came to a standstill a yard or two away.

"Who are you? What do you here?" came in the deep peremptory tones of a man who was evidently a German officer.

For the moment the party in the road, half-blinded by the powerful lights, stopped stupidly where they were. None of them understood what was said, and none made a move either to fly or to resist capture.

Max, the instant he saw the headlights approaching, ran back to the roadway and was just in time to hear the officer's demand. It was too late for flight—too late for anything but attack—and, calling to the men nearest him, he sprang towards the car.

Two revolvers flashed in the darkness. One of the bullets cut through the side of his jacket and grazed his side. The other missed altogether. In another moment he was alongside the car and using the rifle and bayonet he carried with hearty goodwill.

The car contained four German officers and a soldier chauffeur. For a fraction of a second Max attacked them single-handed. Then other men sprang to his assistance, and from both sides of the car the Germans were assaulted with an energy they doubtless had never experienced before. It was quickly over. All the men were bayoneted, and left for dead, and, without waiting to do more than dash out the headlights and overturn the car in a ditch, Max again led the band forward to the frontier.

Day was breaking as the band neared the frontier, at a point where it was crossed by a railway. In a little copse at the side of the track Max halted his men and allowed them a short rest while he went with Shaw to reconnoitre and determine the best means of making the actual crossing. They found, of course, the line well guarded, and with a strong post at the frontier to watch the gap necessarily left in the great barbed-wire fence. The post consisted of about thirty men of the Landwehr, and the band of British and French fugitives could have rushed and destroyed it with the greatest ease. But, should they do this, Max feared that they could not cross into Holland and retain their freedom. They would, he felt sure, be treated as soldiers and be interned for the duration of the war. None of them had any desire for that; all wished to be free to strike again at the foe.

From the frontier back to a busy little station, two miles inland, Max and Shaw continued their search. Then they returned to the place where they had left the rest of the band in hiding.

"Well, Max, what do you think of it?" asked Dale. "D'ye think we can get through anywhere about here without too much of a rumpus?"

"I hope so. I've thought of something that seems to promise."

"What is it, old man?"

"Take forcible possession of yon station in the middle of the night and collar the first train that arrives en route to the frontier. We ought then to be able to run her successfully through the Dutch frontier guards."

"Phew!" cried Dale in amazement.

Shaw gave a prolonged chuckle of intense delight. "Train-snatching—eh?" he cried at last. "That'll suit the boys, I give you my word."

"It's not so easy as it sounds," responded Max soberly. "It needs careful planning, for it must be done like clockwork if we are not to make a mess of it."

"Well, we can do that, I suppose?" replied Shaw confidently. "You found the clockwork all right in that raid on the railway? You plan it out and you'll find we shan't fail you."

"No, I don't think you will, Shaw. Well, it must be done about an hour after nightfall, so we must lose no time. This is how I think it ought to be done," and Max unfolded the plan as it had so far framed itself in his mind.

For an hour or two the three discussed the affair earnestly together. Then they broached the scheme to their waiting comrades. As they anticipated, it met with rapturous approval, and it was in a fever of impatience—for the hour of their deliverance or their defeat was close at hand—that the whole of the band awaited the closing in of night.



CHAPTER XX

Across the Frontier

A train steamed slowly into Storbach station. The stationmaster and a host of officials crossed the platform and prepared to search and interrogate the passengers with that thoroughness and also with that lack of courtesy and consideration which seem peculiarly Prussian.

The engine-driver and his fireman, momentarily released from toil, crossed to the near side of their engine, leaned over the rail, and prepared to enjoy the proceedings. The platform was well lighted, but beyond was a wall of darkness into which the eye could not penetrate more than a yard or two. Suddenly, out of this obscurity, three men appeared. Swiftly they crossed the platform, and, without a moment's hesitation, sprang upon the engine.

"See this?" growled one of them—it was Peck—levelling his bayonet at the engine-driver who had shrunk back into the cab. "You do? Well, then, keep quiet or you'll feel it—sharp. We're desp'rit men, we are, and that's all about it."

The engine-driver understood well enough, and the fireman, who had been similarly cornered by another of the trio, seemed to understand equally well that the first doubtful movement on his part would be his last. Full possession having thus been obtained, the three new-comers gave an eye to what was happening on the platform.

Events there were sufficiently exciting. From all sides armed men of a particularly wild-looking variety had suddenly invaded the platform. One group had promptly seized the telegraph office and seen to it that no messages appealing for help should be sent along the wires in either direction. In fact they went a step further, and put the instrument out of action so thoroughly that all risk from this source was at an end for a long time to come.

The main body as promptly attacked the guard of soldiers in charge of the station and overwhelmed them utterly at the first onrush. German Landsturm and Landwehr troops were as children in the hands of these veteran British and French soldiers, and complete victory was won at the cost of two men slightly wounded only. Then came the turn of the astonished officials, railway porters, and the few passengers waiting to enter the train. These surrendered with commendable promptitude, and, dumbfounded with amazement, were shepherded into one of the waiting-rooms and locked securely in.

The passengers on the train were ordered out on to the platform, ushered into another waiting-room, and there similarly secured. All was now ready, and Max gave the signal for the men who had been stationed outside, guarding all exits, to close in and for the whole of the band to entrain.

Running forward to the engine, Max sprang up and gave the signal to start.

"Full speed ahead, Peck. Let her go."

That worthy, by the aid of very expressive pantomime, assisted by a sentence or two in German from Max, quickly induced the engine-driver and fireman to perform their offices, and the train moved out from the platform to the tune of suppressed cheers from its delighted occupants. The two miles to the frontier were covered in a few minutes, and with a cheer, no longer suppressed but full of heart-felt gladness, the fugitives saw the last outpost of their enemies flash by. They were now in a friendly country and had only to play their cards with care and moderation to find themselves once more on the way to their native lands.

Presently Max ordered the train to be brought to a standstill. They were now well into Holland and there were no line guards, and, at that hour, none to mark their doings. All rifles and bayonets were handed out and dropped into a muddy ditch. Then the journey was resumed until they reached a siding into which the train could be run.

The driver and firemen were gagged, bound hand and foot, and left in charge of their empty train while their captors marched on foot across country en route for Rotterdam. They were stopped and questioned many times, but on each occasion they were eventually allowed to proceed.

At the great Dutch port Max and Dale took leave of their soldier friends. Max, now that he had brought the band to safety, wished to seek out his mother and sister, and Dale, of course, must go with him.

On the deck of a ship bound for England the two friends said good-bye to Shaw and his stanch command, and when they trod the gangway back to the shore of Holland the cheer that went up brought all the Dutchmen and German spies about the dock hurrying to the scene. Huzza after huzza rent the air, and, when the ship drew away out into the stream on its way to the ocean, the strains of the Marseillaise and Rule Britannia could be heard high above the throb of engines and the clank and rattle of the busy port.

"Fine fellows, those," remarked Dale with more than a suggestion of regret in his voice.

"None better," replied Max emphatically. "And how well the men of the two races worked together. I think it must be an earnest of the way France and Britain will work together in the great alliance."

"Aye. And what part are we going to play, old man?" asked Dale eagerly. "'Pon my word I feel all on fire to get to work and strike a few good blows for England."

"So we will, but we have earned a rest, so let us go to Maastricht and stay quietly with my mother and sister for a little while. Then we will go to England and offer ourselves for service in any capacity in which we can be of most use. Then 'hard all' right up the course."

"Hurrah! I'm with you. Forward all! Paddle!"

"But I should like a job that will give me a chance to give an eye occasionally to the Durend works," presently remarked Max meditatively.

"There you go again," groaned Dale. "Those works of yours are the bane of my life. There's no getting away from them for a moment."

"They're my special job, and Schenk is my special enemy," replied Max in the steady resolute tone Dale knew so well. "There is no one who can take my place there in thwarting the enemy's plans, and while I live I can never forget it."

"I don't believe you can," agreed Dale comically, "so it's no use my trying. I suppose that will be the end of your fine talk about our offering our services to the British authorities?"

"Not at all, old man. What about the Secret Service? With our knowledge of Belgium and its languages I should think they might find us employment that will be every whit as useful to the Allies as fighting in the ranks. And it will give me a chance, occasionally, to see what Schenk is up to, and, perhaps, to try another fall with him."

"Well, that doesn't sound so bad. Anyway it is good enough to think about a little more before we make up our minds. Now for Maastricht and that rest we've been chasing ever since we left Liege for the Ardennes. At last there seems a chance of our getting it."

At Maastricht Max had a joyful reception. His mother had never lost hope of his safe return, but the suspense had been trying, and the news from Liege had not been of a kind to reassure her. However, here he was back again, safe and sound, and in that fact all fears and anxieties were forgotten. Dale shared in the welcome, and for a week or two the friends stayed happily at home. Then the leaven began to work again, and one day Dale found Max going carefully through the miscellaneous lot of papers which he had taken from his father's safe along with the money and securities on which his mother had since been living.

"Business, eh?" he enquired jocularly.

"Something of the sort," admitted Max. "Looking through those old papers we raided out of Schenk's clutches. Some of them are his and not my father's, and I can see why he was so anxious to get them back again. Why, here is correspondence—between the rascal and someone who, I expect, is an agent of the German Government—dating back years before the war, in which Schenk is instructed to prepare the Durend works for the eventuality of a German occupation of Liege. It's all here, even to the laying down of concrete gun-platforms, one of which the impudent beggar disguised as our tennis-court."

"Good! Anything else?"

"Nothing quite so good as that. Plans of the Durend mines and works and such-like. They may be useful some day."

"When we get rid of Schenk, eh? That will be some time yet, so you need not bother your head about plans of the works. In fact, to put it mildly—I don't want to hurt your feelings—I expect the place will be so altered when you get it back that you won't recognize it, and those plans will be of mighty little use to you or anyone else."

"Yes," replied Max thoughtfully. "You're referring to Schenk's threat that, if ever the Germans had to leave Liege, he would smash up the works so thoroughly that not one brick would be left upon another?"

"Aye."

"He's just the man to do it."

"He is that. And the less reason for you to bother about the place. It's no use worrying; it can't be helped."

"I'm not so sure. Anyway I'm going to do what I can to save the place. As for these papers of Schenk's, I'm going to hand them over to the British consul. They'll be useful, I don't doubt, as one more proof of Germany's deep-laid plans for war."

Max did as he proposed, and the papers were accepted with alacrity and forwarded to the British Foreign Office. At the same time Max made application on his own and Dale's behalf for employment in Belgium as members of the British Secret Service. After a week or two's delay, during which time enquiries no doubt were being made into their credentials, an official arrived with the necessary documents, and after a long conversation, detailing exactly what was required of them, Max and Dale were accepted and enrolled.

A few days later they had said good-bye to their home in quiet Maastricht and were away across the frontier, in the great whirlpool of the war once more.

They resumed the disguises of Walloon workmen, which had already served them in such good stead, and applied for work in Liege and all the big towns of Belgium. For two years and more they worked steadily, in different workshops up and down the country, gathering news and transmitting it faithfully to the agents of the British Government. They were cool and reliable observers, and their information was found to be so uniformly accurate that it was relied upon more and more as the months went by.



CHAPTER XXI

The Great Coup

At the commencement of their work in the Secret Service, Max and Dale visited Liege, and, while collecting information there, thought out and put into operation a far-reaching plan that they hoped might checkmate Schenk's schemes for the destruction of the Durend works when the Germans should be forced to evacuate the city. It was a plan formulated after they had again got into touch with M. Dubec and the small band of men who still loyally refused to work in the interests of the invaders. M. Dubec had imparted to them the information—not unexpected—that Schenk had placed mines under all the workshops, and put everything in readiness for blowing them into the air whenever he should wish to do so.

"I have it from one of the men who actually helped to dig and fill them, Monsieur. He was not allowed to help in the wiring, and he believes this was done secretly at night, by Germans whom Schenk knew he could trust."

"So you know that the shops are mined, but do not know where the wires run?"

"That is true, Monsieur."

"Could you not find out?"

"I do not think so, Monsieur. Since that last affair of ours there have been too many sentries in the yards, especially at night. It would be impossible to dig anywhere."

"We ought to do something, Dubec."

"Yes, Monsieur?"

"But the job is to know what," Dale struck in. "We can't tunnel underground, I suppose, and get at them that way, so we must find out by spying where the wires are run to—eh, Max?"

"Tunnel?" ejaculated Max. "That's an idea, Dale. Those old mines we were tracing in the plans the other day! Why not?"

"Why not what?" asked Dale a little testily.

"Why, you know we noticed that one of them ran right up to the outskirts of the city? Well, why shouldn't we continue it secretly, until we get beneath the yards, and then burrow upwards to the workshops? Then we can remove the mine-charges from below, and sit still and hold tight until the great day arrives."

"Hurrah!" cried Dale enthusiastically. "The very thing. Phew! what a coup it will be!"

"We shall, of course, have to get Dubec here and one or two others to arrange it for us. They must go to work in the Durend mines, and take it in turns to spend a night down there. Each man, as his turn comes, must go into the old workings, and continue the gallery fixed upon in the direction of the Durend works. Narrow seams of coal, not worth working, did run in that direction according to the plans, and they will have no difficulty in getting rid of the coal of course. The rock they hew out must be taken away and dumped in remote, abandoned workings, where it is not likely to be found or understood."

"'Pon my word, it sounds like the real thing," cried Dale with fresh enthusiasm. "But it'll take a long time I should think, so we must make a start at once. What do you think, Dubec?"

"Yes, Monsieur, it will take much time. But we will work hard, knowing that we are working for our country. It will make our hearts light again to feel that we are once more of use, and some who might give way will keep on and on, refusing to bend the knee to the German tyrants and to work their will."

"Yes, it may well do that," said Max thoughtfully. "And if any object that they will be helping the Germans by sending coal up to the surface, tell them that I say that the other work they are doing far outweighs that. If we can secure the Durend works intact, ready to make shells and guns for the Allies when the Germans are driven out, we shall have struck a strong blow—aye, one of the strongest—for our side."

"I will tell them, Monsieur, though I do not think it will be necessary."

"Any money and tools that will be required I will supply. And I will occasionally come down into the mine and correct the direction in which you are driving the gallery. We must be exact, or all our work will be wasted."

After a few days' more planning, and another consultation with Dubec, the details of the scheme were settled to everyone's satisfaction, and the work commenced. The direction of affairs on the spot was left to Dubec, and to him was also left the responsibility of deciding to what men the secret should be imparted. Then Max and Dale left the district and went on with their own special work, satisfied that the last and final stratagem for defeating Schenk was in good hands, and likely, in the course of time, to be brought to a successful issue.

It is not here that we can describe the many adventures that befell Max and Dale while in the British Secret Service. They were numerous and exciting enough, but this tale deals primarily with the fortunes of the great Durend workshops and their influence in the war. A long, tedious period of trench fighting now began on the Western Front. There were no big territorial changes, although there were many attacks on a grand scale at Ypres, at Verdun, on the Somme, and in the plain of Flanders. But this period, tedious though it was, came to an end at last in the great German retreat. Then came for Max and Dale the crucial period of all their long and patient scheming to outwit their own special enemy, Otto von Schenkendorf, the manager of the Durend works.

When the great retreat began, Max and Dale were at Liege, on the spot. At the gates of the works they watched the serried ranks of workmen and workwomen as they trudged out in response to the manager's orders that the works must be closed and that all workers of German nationality or sympathies must retire across the frontier. The anger and consternation in their faces were a treat to see, after the long years of their arrogance towards men and women of Belgian nationality. The war was virtually over—so said their faces—and many of them were doubtless dreading lest infamies, similar to those wreaked on the helpless Belgians, might be perpetrated in their towns and villages.

As the crowd thinned, Max and Dale caught sight of the manager, accompanied by a German officer, seated in a great grey motor just inside the gates, apparently waiting for the last workman to file out and away. The guard of soldiers was still there, standing stiffly to attention, and it seemed to Max that there was an air of tension about them all, as though something was about to happen. He could well guess what. Suddenly, in the distance, there came the sound of dropping rifle-shots.

"They've cut it pretty fine, if those shots mean the advance guard of the Allies," remarked Max in a voice tense with excitement. "The works are clear of the workmen; now for the last great act. Then the curtain!"

Herr Schenk—as we shall continue to call him—stood up in his car and shouted to the officer of the guard:

"You have your instructions, Lieutenant. Act upon them now without delay."

The officer saluted, turned about with military precision, and strode into the guard-room.

Herr Schenk resumed his seat, nodded to the chauffeur, and the car moved slowly through the gates into the road. Max thought he was about to leave the works for good and all, but the car stopped at the side of the road a hundred yards or so from the gates, and all in her stood up and gazed back in the direction of the works. In the distance, but nearer now, could be heard a brisk fusillade of rifle-shots, with now and again the brief chatter of a machine-gun.

"Strong cavalry patrols approaching," commented Max. "They are driving in scattered bodies of stragglers or outposts, I should say. Look now at Schenk! He is waiting for the works to go up sky-high."

The moments passed, and nothing happened. A minute, two minutes, three minutes. Still there was no change, and the tense attitude of the men waiting in the car relaxed, and they began talking together in low tones. Suddenly the figure of the officer of the guard appeared at the gates, gesticulating excitedly.

Schenk gave a quick order to the chauffeur. The car was turned and moved quickly back to the gates, and there stopped. The officer of the guard ran to it, leaned over the side, and explained volubly. Max and Dale, from where they stood, could hear nothing of what was said, but they knew, almost as well as if they had heard, that the officer was explaining that he had tried to fire the mines, but somehow without success.

With a gesture of rage or impatience Schenk sprang out of the car, and, followed by both officers, ran quickly to the guard-room and disappeared from view.

The dropping shots had approached quite near, and Max believed that the skirmishers could not be more than half a mile away, and were advancing with a speed that indicated that they consisted either of cavalry or armed motors.

"I'd give something to see their faces now—wouldn't you, Max?" queried Dale, who could hardly contain himself in his delight.

Max was busy scribbling on a sheet of paper torn from his notebook, and did not for a moment reply. When he had finished, he folded it up carefully and addressed it on the outside. "Let us walk past the gates, Dale, as though just passing. I am going to administer the coup de grace to our friend Schenk."

They crossed the road and slouched along past the gates. As they passed the great grey motorcar, Max lightly dropped the note he was carrying on to the seat which Schenk had just been occupying. The chauffeur was looking eagerly in the direction of the guard-room, and did not observe the act or the missive. They slouched on until they turned a corner, and then Max cried eagerly:

"Now back again and in that garden among the bushes. We shall see it all, and see Schenk's face when he reads my note."

"What did you say, old man?"

"Let us get out of sight there, and I will tell you."

In a few moments the two friends were snugly ensconced in a clump of bushes in a garden very near the entrance to the works. The grey car was still occupied only by the chauffeur, but they could tell, by his listening attitude and the expectant looks of the guards, that an altercation of some sort was going on inside the guard-room.

"This is what I said, old man," Max went on in a voice which betrayed his excitement:—

"TO HERR VON SCHENKENDORF, alias OTTO SCHENK,

"I observe that you have at last accepted your dismissal from your post as manager of the Durend works. You are going—hated and despised—back to the land which gave you birth. And at last, in this moment, you must know yourself defeated by those at whom you scoffed as boys. The works you swore to destroy still stand intact, and will, in a short time, be throwing all their weight and power into the cause of the Allies. Adieu.

"MAX DUREND, "JACK DALE."

"Good, old man! That'll make the beggar sit up if anything will. Hark! cavalry. Ours or theirs, I wonder?"

In a measure they were answered by a sudden move of the soldiers guarding the gates. The lieutenant had shouted an order, and they fell into marching order and strode swiftly away in the direction of the frontier. The officer remained where he was, and was almost immediately joined by Herr Schenk and the other officer. All three walked quickly to the motor and got in.

The manager, as he did so, picked up a letter lying on his seat and glanced at the writing. He gave a start that was visible even to the watchers at the other side of the road, then plucked it open with nervous, jerky movements. He glanced quickly through it and sprang uncontrollably to his feet, his face aflame with passion.

The officer at his side shouted to him in alarm and endeavoured to pull him back into his seat.

Suddenly there was a loud clatter of horses' hoofs at the end of the street, and a body of Belgian cavalry debouched into view. The chauffeur of the grey car instantly started and turned his machine, and it moved away with ever-increasing speed, Schenk still standing and gesticulating wildly, with Max's letter clenched in his right hand, and the officer endeavouring ineffectually to drag him back into his seat. As the car passed the two watchers, they could not repress their exultation, but jumped to their feet and gave a loud, full-throated British cheer.



The officer whose hands were free drew his revolver and fired viciously at them. The shots went wide, and in a moment or two the car had turned a corner and vanished out of sight.

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."

"No, he is a back number now, and he will be lucky if it is no worse."

(Long afterwards they learned that the exasperation of the Germans at Herr Schenk's failure to destroy his workshops before the evacuation, was so great that he was tried by court-martial, and, notwithstanding his considerable influence, promptly shot.)

A burst of cheering from the town in the direction of the market-place drew the attention of the two young fellows away from the works to the events that were taking place in the town. They left the works, closing the great gates after them, and joined the townspeople in their great welcome to the soldiers of Belgium and the Allies as they passed through in triumph in pursuit of their enemies. It was all very exhilarating, and even the discovery that Max's house had been burned to the ground was insufficient to damp their patriotic ardour, for they had expected no less. It had not been possible to arrange to save this, and, as Max said, so long as the works were saved it mattered little about the house. Another could soon be found, or built for that matter. But the works—to get those into full swing in quick time was the equivalent of a victory for the Allies.

And in almost full swing they were in a couple of days. All that day and the next the loyal workmen dribbled back—some from the town, some from remote villages, and many from across the Dutch border. With hearty goodwill they threw themselves into their work, and soon the roar of the lathes and engines announced that the Durend works were themselves once more.

The tale of how Max Durend had fought the long battle of the works, of how vigilantly he had watched over them, and of how, at last, he had won the greatest fight of all in saving them from destruction, passed from mouth to mouth among the workmen. If anything had been needed to cement the strong bond between them and their employer, this would have supplied it. But their relations were already of the best, and this great story served but to set a seal upon it and to render the link between the two unbreakable.

And from strength to strength the great workshops went on. Ever in the van of progress—for Max had learned his work from the bottom upwards and was ever ready to learn more—secure in the possession of skilled workmen filled with zeal and goodwill, well-directed, and trusted far and wide, the Durend works expanded until they were twice the size of any similar concern in Belgium.

Jack Dale stuck to Max to the end. He followed his friend's example and went through all the shops, learning the work thoroughly, and later on became the manager of an important branch of the firm. Eventually he married Max's sister, and drew closer yet the ties which held him to his friend.

Max became, in the fulness of time, something of a figure in Belgium, and did much to aid its recovery from the ravages of the enemy. He never forgot his English blood, and was a foremost supporter of all movements which might draw the two countries closer to one another in friendship and esteem.

THE END