in it and on it. Men and women sat precariously on the roofs
of the ramshackle carriages, stood on the buffers and couplings, or
clung to door-handles. Not even foothold was to be had for love or
money on that train at Blankenberge.

Dalroy, who dared not let go his machine, contrived to get a word with
the Medical Officer in charge.

As ever, the Briton made light of past troubles.

"We've had the time of our lives!" was the cheery comment. "After Mons
we were left in a field hospital with a mixed crowd of British, French,
and Germans. Of course, we looked after all alike, and that saved our
bacon, because even a German general had to try and behave decently when
he found a thousand of his own men in our care. So he sent us to
Brussels with a safe conduct, and from Brussels we were allowed to make
for Ostend--had to leg it, though, the last twenty miles to the Belgian
outposts. Then we refitted, and started for Bruges, where we've been at
work in a convent for five weeks. The remnant of the Belgian army passed
through Bruges yesterday and the day before, so we cleared out all
possible cases, and started away with the crocks early this morning. At
the last minute we were hustled a bit by a Taube dropping bombs on the
station. One bomb took from us a van-load of kit. We haven't a thing
except the stretchers and what we're wearing."

"I'll ride on now, and meet you at Ostend," said Dalroy. He had not the
heart to damp the spirits of the party by telling of the chaos awaiting
them. Sufficient for the next hour would be the evil thereof.

"I say, it's awfully good of you to take all this trouble," said the
doctor.

"I've lost my job with the departure of our troops, so I had to find
something to do," smiled the other.

A fleet of Belgian armoured cars cleared a road through the stream of
fugitives, and Dalroy kept close in rear, so he made a fast return
journey. Dashing past the town station, near which the steam-tram would
disgorge its freight, he headed straight for the Gare Maritime. It was
now dusk, but he saw at once that the crowd besieging the entrance was
denser and more frantic than ever, though the last steamer whose
departure was announced officially had left early in the day.

He ascertained from a helpless policeman that the rumour had gone round
of a vessel coming in; the sullen, apathetic multitude, waiting there
for it knew not what chance of rescue, had suddenly become dangerous.

"The American Co