l smile as he
glanced from Freddy to Dave.

"I would feel very happy if I had a million like you under my command,"
he murmured. "If only half what you say is true, it is enough.
Sergeant!"

A huge bearded non-com putting a machine gun in working order got to his
feet and lumbered over. He ran his bloodshot eyes over Freddy and Dave,
and then fixed them on his officer.

"My Lieutenant?" he grunted.

"These two, Sergeant," the Lieutenant said with a jerk of his head.
"They are to be taken to General Boulard's headquarters at once. You
will take one of the light scouting cars and drive them there. That is
all."

The big sergeant blinked and looked dubious.

"I will try, of course, my Lieutenant," he said. "But we may meet with
difficulty. A runner has arrived only a moment ago at the Fortieth
Company. The Boche tanks have cut the road to Namur. They seek to get
around in back of us. The Boche planes are also bombing the entire road.
It will be difficult but I will attempt it, my Lieutenant."

Dave saw the Belgian officer's face pale under its coating of blood and
dirt. The man clenched his fists in a helpless gesture, and something
akin to tears of bitter rage glistened in his haggard eyes. At that
exact moment the whole world was filled with a terrifying eerie scream.
The Belgians fell flat on their faces. The Lieutenant dragged Freddy and
Dave down with him, and tried to cover them with his own body.

Dave knew the meaning of that awful sound. He had heard it along that
road packed with terror stricken refugees. He had heard it as he dragged
an old woman to the flimsy protection of an ox cart. His heart stood
still in his chest. The blood ceased to surge through his veins. His
lungs became locked with air, and his brain became numb and useless as
he waited those terrible few seconds. The diving Stuka's death load hit
on the far side of the road. Half of Belgium seemed to fountain up into
the sky, and what was left rocked and swayed crazily. Thunderous sound
swept over Dave and seemed actually to shove him down into the ground.
In a crazy sort of way he wondered if he was dead. Then the next thing
he realized the Belgian lieutenant was helping him up onto his feet.

"It is only the direct hits that matter," the officer said in a gentle
voice, and smiled.

"That was plenty direct enough for me!" Dave said and gulped.

"Yes, quite!" Freddy breathed and clenched his hands to stop his fingers
trembling.

"Whe