d a great deal more and moved
off the track full of suppressed excitement and jubilation. Like a
pistol-shot it had come to them that the brutal destruction of the poor
village beyond Bastogne was about to be very amply revenged indeed.

The rumble of the two trains approaching from opposite directions was
now drawing very close, and the men hung about in the bushes, a few
yards up the side of the cutting, watching eagerly for any sign that the
drivers had seen the short breaks in the line and were bringing their
trains to a standstill. But there was no sign of this. The trains
approached at a steady speed, and the drivers, if on the look-out,
noticed nothing amiss in the patches of deeper shadow in the half
darkness of the gloomy cutting.

The two trains reached the fatal spot almost at the same moment. Both
followed the direction of the tampered rails and left the track with a
bumping grind that made those who heard it shudder. Then they collided
with a crash that could be heard for miles. The engines reared up almost
on end--as though in a desperate attempt to leap over one another--and
rolled over on their sides. Behind them the great wagons still drove on
and piled themselves up on high in a welter of hideous confusion.

The noise, the confusion, the sense of dire destruction, were almost
paralysing; but, almost without being conscious of it, Max found himself
eagerly scanning the wrecked wagons to see what they contained. The
"bag" was one sufficient to satisfy the most ardent patriot. The trucks,
or some of them, of the train bound outwards to Liege clearly contained
the guns of several heavy batteries. Those of the inward train were
filled with machinery and other stores filched from the great Belgian
workshops and being transferred to Germany to set up fresh works there.
A few of the trucks of the inward train appeared to contain shells, and
these Max marked down as the point for the final attack.

The noise of the collision, of course, brought all the men guarding the
line, within hearing, hurrying to the scene. None of them, or of the
survivors of those on the trains, had any thought that the catastrophe
was anything but an accident, and no attempt was made to search for
possible enemies. Most of the German soldiers, indeed, flung down their
weapons and busied themselves in the task of extricating men and horses
from the piles of overturned wagons.

Thus when again, at Max's signal, the band of British an