ves, the ferry-boat, wondered, no doubt, what was causing
such a commotion among the enemy. Luckily, the officer in charge
recognised a new ring in the rifles. He could not identify it, but was
certain it came from neither a Belgian nor a German weapon.

Thus, in a sense, he was prepared for Jan Maertz's hail, and was even
more reassured by Irene's clear voice urging him to send the boat.

Two volunteers manned the oars. In a couple of minutes the unwieldy
craft bumped into a pontoon, and was soon crowded with passengers. Never
was sweeter music in the ears of a little company of Britons than the
placid lap of the current, followed by the sharp challenge of a sentry:
"_Qui va la?_"

"A party of English soldiers, a Belgian, and an English lady," answered
Dalroy.

An officer hurried forward. He dared not use a light, and, in the
semi-obscurity of the river bank, found himself confronted by a
sinister-looking crew. He was cautious, and exceedingly sceptical when
told briefly the exact truth. His demand that all arms and ammunition
should be surrendered before he would agree to send them under escort to
the village of Aspen was met by a blank refusal from Bates and his
myrmidons. Dalroy toned down this cartel into a graceful plea that
thirteen soldiers, belonging to eight different regiments of the British
army, ought not to be disarmed by their gallant Belgian allies, after
having fought all the way from Mons to the Schelde.

Irene joined in, but Jan Maertz's rugged speech probably carried greater
conviction. After a prolonged argument, which the infuriated Germans
might easily have interrupted by close-range volleys, the difficulty was
adjusted by the unfixing of bayonets and the slinging of rifles. A
strong guard took them to Aspen, where they arrived about eleven
o'clock. They were marshalled in the kitchen of a comfortable inn, and
interviewed by a colonel and a major.

Oddly enough, Corporal Bates was the first to gain credence by producing
his map, and describing the villages he and his mates had passed
through, the woods in which they hid for days together, and the cures
who had helped them. Bates's story was an epic in itself. His men
crowded around, and grinned approvingly when he rounded off each curt
account of a "scrap" by saying, "Then the Yewlans did a bunk, an' we
pushed on."

Dalroy, acting as interpreter, happened to glance at the circle of
cheerful faces during a burst of merriment aroused by a re