added Rod,
seriously.

"Why," spoke up Hanky Panky, excitedly, "everywhere you look you see
signs of the war game right here in Antwerp. Soldiers are marching
through the streets to the cheers of the people. Artillery is dashing
this way and that. Armored cars can be seen starting out to harry the
enemy with their Maxims. And hardly an hour of the day but half a dozen
British or Belgian aeroplanes soar above us, doing all kinds of stunts
calculated to make your hair stand on end."

"It's the greatest thing that ever happened, barring none," declared the
delighted Josh, looking as though he could almost hug himself, such was
his joy; "and let me tell you we're the lucky boys to be on the spot
when history is being made so fast."

"The party I'm to see for Mr. Amos Tucker," remarked Rod, "will be in
the city to-night. I'll get that out of my system; and once I send the
documents by registered post I'm free for anything that crops up."

"Hurrah! then we'll have a chance to climb aboard our wheels again, and
strike out for France!" said Josh. "Here's hoping we may run across a
corner of the big fight that's taking place north of Paris. I'd be a
happy fellow if I could actually see those brave Frenchmen, backed up by
the British troops, meet the boastful Germans who believe they can clean
up the whole world."

Rod shrugged his shoulders, and made a wry face.

"We've already seen something of a battle from a distance, you remember,
Josh," he told the other, "and all of us decided that it was simply
_terrible_. For my part, while I'd like to see the French in action
I'm not going out of my way to take chances. The way they fill the air
with deadly missiles from quick-firers and with bursting shrapnel gives
you a cold feeling."

"Rod," said Hanky Panky, who somehow had not been taking part in this
talk, "do turn and watch that poor little woman over there. She's in a
peck of trouble, I reckon, by the way she acts, first looking at a paper
she's been reading, and then wiping her eyes with her apron."

"You mean the one with the dog team, and the tall, brass-mounted milk
cans, don't you, Hanky Panky?" asked Josh quickly. "I saw her a while
ago, and heard her speak to the little child in wooden sabots that is
tagging at her heels. It was pure French she used, and I'd wager a
cookey she isn't a Belgian at all. There are lots of people from
northern France in Antwerp, you know."

"Well, she's having a hard time of it, so