found your tongue--"

But he did not finish the sentence. From an unexpected quarter a shot
rang out. It struck the pail of milk and dashed it over the German and
over Father De Smet too. Another shot followed, and the right arm of
the soldier fell helpless to his side. One of his companions gave a
howl and fell to the ground. Still no one appeared at whom the Germans
could direct their fire. "Snipers!" shouted the soldiers, instantly
lowering their guns, but before they could even fire in the direction
of the unseen enemy, there was such a patter of bullets about them that
they turned and fled.

Father De Smet fled, too. He leaped over the frying-pan and tore down
the river-bank after the boat. As he overtook it, Mother De Smet ran
out the gang plank. "Boys!" shouted Father De Smet. "Get aboard! Get
aboard!" Joseph and Jan instantly stopped the mule and, dropping the
reins, raced up the gangplank, almost before the end of it rested
safely on the ground. Father De Smet snatched up the reins. On went the
boat at Netteke's best speed, which seemed no better than a snail's
pace to the fleeing family. Sounds of the skirmish continued to reach
their ears, even when they had gone some distance down the river, and
it was not until twilight had deepened into dusk, and they were hidden
in its shadows, that they dared hope the danger was passed. It was
after ten o'clock at night when the "Old Woman" at last approached the
twinkling lights of Antwerp, and they knew that, for the time being at
least, they were safe.

They wore now beyond the German lines in country still held by the
Belgians. Here, in a suburb of the city, Father De Smet decided to dock
for the night. A distant clock struck eleven as the hungry but thankful
family gathered upon the deck of the "Old Woman" to eat a meager supper
of bread and cheese with only the moon to light their repast. Not until
they had finished did Father De Smet tell them all that had happened to
him during the few terrible moments when he was in the hands of the
enemy.

"They overreached themselves," he said. "They meant to amuse themselves
by prolonging my misery, and they lingered just a bit too long." He
turned to Jan and Joseph. "You were brave boys! If you had not started
the boat when you did, it is quite likely they might have got me, after
all, and the potatoes too. I am proud of you."

"But, Father," cried Joseph, "who could have fired those shots? We
didn't see a soul."

"N