"Ha! another. This is a double invasion, the German invasion and that of the volunteers!" THE OLD MAN AND THE GOAT, ANTWERP. _August_ 14, 1914. All morning there is an uninterrupted cortège of civilians fleeing from the onrushing hordes. They have taken with them everything capable of being carried in their hands. The pathetic sight makes one feel the precipitateness of the flight, the despair, the panic! A bent old man arrives presently; he walks slowly, fixedly regarding the ground. He is leading a little white goat, which, every ten paces or so, butts the old man with its horns, as if urging him to go faster. The latter does not falter--he walks straight ahead. One doesn't know whether to laugh or weep. THE SOLDIER WHO BAYONETS HIS FIRST BOCHE, BELGIUM. _September_, 1914. A young soldier was seated alongside the road. He belonged to a Regiment of the Division quartered in the neighboring villages. He had a sad and dejected air. I seated myself at his side because I wanted to know the impression of the men who had already been in battle. "Have you been under fire?" I queried. "Yes, corporal." "How many Germans have you killed?" I saw a haze of anger pass over the eyes of this young chap who regarded me with a fixed look. "Just one! I hate the Germans, I swear it, but I tremble to think what I have done--yes, I killed him dead enough! "_Voilà!_ I am a gardener by trade. I live in the Luxembourg. The garden of my masters--it is all my life. Why has this accursed war broken out? Can they no longer stay at home, the pigs? "Then I was called and you know the rest, because I will not speak of the first days of the campaign. "But, _voilà!_ one night we made an ambuscade on a farm in the outskirts of Vilvorde. It was dark. They told us the Germans would possibly attempt a reconnaissance in the village and it was necessary to open their eyes. "We were placed in a house closer to the enemy lines than the others and it was forbidden to enter the street. Some of my comrades were hidden above on the second floor, but I was hiding back of the front stairs and observed the entrance-way. "My nerves were overexcited by this long wait. A single ray of the moon wandered over the ground above the gate; it recalled one of my ambushes for flower poachers. "Night advanced and finally I believed they would never come. Suddenly a well-sustained fire broke out a short distance away. I had fixed my bayonet and now grasped my rifle tightly. "The gate opened brusquely. The night was clear and I saw a big devil of a German officer, revolver in hand, pass through and enter the walk. He desired without doubt to seek shelter, for he slammed the gate after him. "This is what passed then in a flash. I left my hiding place--he saw me. In his eyes there was the look of distress one always sees in those of a trapped beast. He shot at me, but so quickly that he did not aim. The report awoke the whole house.