the salvoes of artillery, he heard Leontine's voice,
"Monsieur! Mademoiselle!"

He pulled up the trap. Beneath stood Leontine, with a long pole in her
hands. Beside her, on the floor, was a laden tray.

"I've brought you something to eat," she said. "Father thinks you had
better remain there at present. The Germans say they will soon cross the
river, as they intend taking Liege to-night."

Not until they had eaten some excellent rolls and butter, with boiled
eggs, and drank two cups of hot coffee, did they realise how ravenously
hungry they were. Then Dalroy persuaded Irene to lie down on a pile of
sacks, and, amid all the racket of a fierce engagement, she slept the
sleep of sheer exhaustion. Thus he was left on guard, as it were, and
saw the pontoons once more demolished.

After that he, too, curled up against the wall and slept. The sound of
rifle shots close at hand awoke him. His first care was for the girl,
but she lay motionless. Then he looked out. There was renewed excitement
in the main road, but only a few feet of it was visible from the attic.
A number of women and children ran past, all screaming, and evidently in
a state of terror. Several houses in the town were on fire, and the
smoke hung over the river in such clouds as to obscure the north bank.

Old Henri Joos came hurriedly into the yard. He was gesticulating
wildly, and Dalroy heard a door bang as he vanished. Refusing to be
penned up any longer without news of what was happening, Dalroy lowered
the ladder, and, after ascertaining that Irene was still asleep,
descended. He made his way to the kitchen, pausing only to find out
whether or not it held any German soldiers.

Joos's shrill voice, raised in malediction of all Prussians, soon
decided that fact. He spoke in the local _patois_, but straightway
branched off into French interlarded with German when Dalroy appeared.

"Those hogs!" he almost screamed. "Those swine-dogs! They can't beat our
brave boys of the 3rd Regiment, so what do you think they're doing now?
Murdering men, women, and children out of mere spite. The devils from
hell pretended that the townsfolk were shooting at them, so they began
to stab, and shoot, and burn in all directions. The officers are worse
than the men. Three came here in an automobile, and marked on the gate
that the mill was not to be burnt--they want my grain, you see--and, as
they were driving off again, young Jan Smit ran by. Poor lad, he was
breathless wi