e Dieu!_ Two boys in a scouting car.
Well, have you lost your tongues? What is all this, I ask?"

"We are trying to reach General Boulard's headquarters," Freddy said
before Dave could open his mouth. "We have important information. Will
you please take that light out of my eyes? We are not armed, as you can
see."

The bright light was lowered but it was several seconds before the boys
could adjust their eyes to the sudden change from brilliant light to
almost pitch darkness. Then they saw two Belgian corporals with dispatch
rider brassards fastened about the left sleeve of their tunics. Each had
his army pistol drawn and held ready for use.

"General Boulard?" one of them grunted. "Why do you wish to see him,
eh? And what are you doing in this scouting car? So you stole it, yes?
And I suppose you were planning to take it to your family and fill it
with your family's furniture? Well...."

"Nuts!" Dave suddenly yelled at them. "We're not Belgians. He's English,
and I'm American. We've escaped from Germany with valuable information.
A Belgian lieutenant gave us this car, and with a sergeant to drive it.
He's back there dead. We almost bumped into three German tanks, and...."

"German tanks?" one of the dispatch riders broke in excitedly. "Where?"

"Back over there a ways," Dave said and pointed in the general direction
from whence they had come. "Is General Boulard's headquarters still in
Namur?"

The dispatch riders didn't answer at once. They looked at each other,
shrugged, and looked quite alarmed.

"If these infants saw Boche tanks," one of them murmured, "then it must
be a flanking movement to cut us off from Brussels. We must continue on
at once!"

"At once!" his partner agreed and turned to his motorcycle.

"I say there, wait!" Freddy shouted angrily. "Is General Boulard at
Namur?"

"There is nothing at Namur, except death and the cursed Boches!" one of
the dispatch riders shouted. "We go to the General's new headquarters,
now. Follow us and we will show you the way. But, hurry! If you did see
tanks where you say, then we are practically surrounded by the swine.
There is not a moment to lose, unless you care to be shot or at best
taken prisoner by the butchers!"

As though to give emphasis to their words the dispatch riders vaulted
onto their saddles and opened up their motorcycle engines in a roar of
sound that seemed to bounce clear up to the stars and back again. They
were off like a shot and over