eady."

When they had crossed the tracks and reached the line of trucks it was
indeed to find that an opportunity for further escape was right before
them. For here were half a dozen trucks stacked high with hay, and
each covered with a tarpaulin. To cast off one end of the tarpaulin,
to burrow a hole in the hay, to tread their way into the stacks, and to
hack a space sufficient to accommodate their bodies was no great
difficulty, and though, in the midst of their work, the train started,
it made the job all the easier; for then, throwing discretion to the
wind, they tossed what hay was superabundant overboard, and, having by
that means obtained a cosy little nook in one of the stacks, put the
tarpaulin back into position, and, sleepy now after their labours, and
content that they were securely hidden, fell fast asleep, careless of
the direction in which they might be travelling. And two days later,
having in the meanwhile been lucky enough to obtain some food and water
at a siding into which the trucks were shunted, they heard the brakes
grind, and felt the train come to a gradual standstill.

"We shall have to get clear of this," said Henri. "Lucky it's
night-time again. I wonder where we are?"

"Still in Germany, I suppose," said Stuart, as he peered from
underneath the tarpaulin.

"No; Belgium," declared Jules of a sudden. "Look over
there--it's--it's Louvain."

There, painted above the station building near which the trucks were
halted, was the word, in large letters--Louvain.

"Louvain!" said Stuart, a bitter note in his voice; "where those brutes
butchered the Belgians; where they burned the town and the library, and
murdered women and children. Louvain! Just fancy! Still, it's
Belgium, and that's nearer to England."

"And to France!" whispered Henri, a note of excitement in his
voice--"and to France, Stuart! Let's get out and see what will happen."

Dropping from the truck, they presently found themselves in the streets
of Louvain, with ruined and broken remnants of houses on either side of
them, with a cowed population stepping sadly through the deserted
streets, and with packs of arrogant German soldiers patrolling the
town. In happier days both Jules and Henri had been at this place, had
admired this Belgian city of learning, had known some of its
professors--now dead or scattered, many of them having found a home in
England--and had never imagined in those days that such a dreadful
chang