reason why we shouldn't get some sleep now. I'm like
you. As long as we still had something to do I didn't feel tired. But
now,--"

A great yawn interrupted him. They surveyed their work with blinking
eyes, then they crept up to the little room above the garage, and in
less than a minute were sound asleep.

It was broad daylight when they went asleep; when they awoke dusk had
fallen. Paul woke first, and he went to the window and looked out.
Everything, seemingly, was just as it had been when they had last
looked out. The scene was one of profound peace. From the window he
could not see the burned house, a patch of blackened ruin in the fair
landscape. The fading light played on the leaves just as it had a
thousand times before; shadows lay along the little mossy patches, the
corners of the lawns that he knew so well.

"Wake up, Arthur!" he said, turning to his chum.

He had to shake Arthur before he could arouse him.

"It isn't time to get up yet--it's still dark, Paul," protested Arthur,
sleepily. But then he began to recover his wits, and he dragged
himself up, and went with Paul to the window. For a few moments they
were quiet, listening.

"Perhaps they're not coming--perhaps it's all a false alarm. I don't
hear any guns."

"Look!" said Paul, gripping him suddenly by the shoulder. He pointed
to the road. Against the sky stood a horse, on its back a silent rider
with a spiked helmet, in his hand a long lance. A German Uhlan!

CHAPTER IX

WAR

"They've come, then!" said Paul. "That means war. Look at his
uniform--I never saw a German soldier looking like that before."

It was true. The uniform seemed to melt into the landscape; it was
indeterminate, greenish gray in color. Even the spike of the helmet
did not catch the rays of the sinking sun; it was covered with the
dull, neutral colored cloth.

"I hope he isn't going to stay there," said Arthur. Their voices had
sunk to whispers. Though there was no chance that the vidette would
hear them, his very presence had the effect of quieting them. There
was a tremendous difference, somehow, between thinking of an invasion,
between realizing that it was inevitable that German troops should pour
into Belgium, and the actual sight of one of the enemy.

"I don't think he will," said Paul. "He's just scouting, I think.
Probably he will ride back soon. And they can't be very near--the main
body, that is. If they were we'd hear somet