n they went on. And just after they had passed the post, they saw
what the crippled veteran had meant when he had said that some of the
Uhlans had stayed. They lay beside the road, in their greenish gray
uniforms. They were the first German soldiers either of the boys had
seen. And, in the field, two old peasants were digging a grave.

CHAPTER VIII

THE HANDS OF A CLOCK

The sight was a sobering one. There had been only half a dozen of the
Uhlans, and they knew from what they had heard and read that thousands,
scores of thousands probably, had already died in the war. But they
hadn't seen the others, and these men had lain by the roadside within a
few feet of them. For a time neither of the two scouts had much to say.

"There's some real war for you, Henri," Frank said, finally.

"Don't!" said the French scout with a shudder. "It must be, but it is
terrible. And only a few hours ago, I suppose, they were riding along as
well as you and I!"

Then for a mile or more they rode along in silence. They made good time
for the roads were level. There were no interruptions to their progress
now. In the fields, as before, they could see the women and a few old
men about the work of the harvest, but in spite of that, there was an
air of desolation. Everything seemed to have stopped. And there was a
curious something that made itself felt. For a long time, though each of
them felt this, they made no comment on it. Finally Frank called a halt.

"Listen, Harry," he said. "There's something curious. It's a noise, and
yet it isn't, exactly. It sounds a little like thunder or like the surf
when you are quite a little way inland--"

They stopped together, listening.

"I know!" said Henri, suddenly. "It's the guns we hear. The wind is
changing and that is why it is coming to us now. There is a battle. In
olden days we could see its smoke but now they fight without making
smoke. And the noise, too, seems to come from the direction in which we
are going."

Once he had named the cause, there was no mystery about the sound. It
was less a sound, however, than a beating of the air. There were no
sharp reports; it was a steady, ceaseless murmur. But even so, there was
no mistaking it. For the first time they were within hearing distance of
a battle.

"We will soon be on our way to Berlin, now," said Henri. "That must mean
that we have turned--that the great battle has begun."

"It needn't mean that," said Frank. "It may be