y knew thoroughly,
having traversed it many and many a time. Now they were well on their
way to Huy and felt that there was no reason now why they should not
arrive safely. But suddenly Paul stopped.

"There's no use in our getting to Huy before morning, before it's
light, anyway," he said. "The sentries wouldn't let us by. You know
this is wartime. We're not used to that yet. Everything is changed.
I'm tired, and I know you are, too. I think the best thing we can do
is to get some sleep. We can't tell what we may not have to do after
we get to Huy, and we'd better be fresh and ready for whatever turns
up."

"I am tired," admitted Arthur. "I think you're right. Where shall we
sleep?"

"We'll find a place before long," said Paul. "How peaceful it is here!
If we couldn't see the searchlights and hear the guns now and then
there'd be nothing to make it seem as if there was real fighting going
on within a few miles."

Houses were fairly frequent as they went along, but all were dark.
Their occupants, if they had not fled from the nearness of war, were
all asleep. They were farm houses in the main; here, as everywhere in
Belgium, the land was cut up into innumerable tiny patches, even
smaller than the peasant farms of France. In the fields were endless
rows of vegetables--beans, turnips, cabbages, and garden truck of all
sorts. This was the sort of country that had made Belgium known for
years as the vegetable garden of Europe. Finally they stopped near a
dark house, and made themselves comfortable in the lee of a haystack.
And there they slept until the light of the sun came to rouse them.
They awoke to see a peasant boy staring stupidly at them.

"Good-morning!" said Paul, rousing himself. "Can we get breakfast in
your house if we pay for it?"

"I suppose so," said the peasant. "My mother may have some for you.
My father has gone to fight."

They followed him to the little cottage, and there they got what the
woman could give them for breakfast--eggs and milk, as it turned out.
In a few days, though she did not realize this, neither would be
obtainable thereabout at any price; the German host would have spread
over the countryside like a swarm of locusts. Perhaps it would pay for
what it ate, but it would eat at all events, regardless of that, and
the money it might leave in the place of the food it took would be
valueless, since money can buy nothing when there is nothing to be sold.

But thes