A Hero of Liége: A Story of the Great WarStrang, Herbert
General
A Hero of Liége: A Story of the Great War
Strang, Herbert
World War, 1914-1918 -- France -- Juvenile fiction
"Toujours l’audace!" the stranger answered. "But my life isn’t worth a
moment’s purchase. I owe you a few minutes; ’for this relief much
thanks.’ Leave me now, and make for your friends. They will look after
you. I have none."
"Not a bit of it," replied Kenneth instantly. "We stick together. I
know a quiet place where we can consult. Step out briskly, as if we
have important business on hand."
"There’s nothing hypothetical about that," murmured the other. "On,
then!"
They hurried along the street, which was crowded with persons of all
ages, some talking excitedly, others cheering and singing patriotic
songs. Now and then there was a cry of "Down with England!" The two
fugitives walked quickly, dodging among the crowd to avoid the wearers
of military or police uniforms, their own uniforms clearing a way for
them. As they passed a beershop, the outside tables of which were
thronged, the drinkers cheered them and broke lustily into the song of
Deutschland über Alles.
As soon as possible they turned into a side street, less populous; and
Kenneth, who knew the city well, directed his course towards the river,
to a little secluded nook, where he hoped it would be possible to hold a
quiet consultation. In the hurry of escape and the anxious transit of
the streets he had been unable to devote a moment’s thought to their
future action. It was clear that their safety hung by a thread; their
only chance was to lay their plans calmly, taking due account of the
present circumstances and future contingencies.
They reached their destination. There was nobody about.
"We may have a few minutes to ourselves," said Kenneth. He took out his
watch. "It is nearly ten o’clock. My train has gone, so that’s out of
the question."
"You were leaving?"
"Yes; my friends thought I had better go; that was before war with
England was certain. I suppose it is true?"
"The time limit has not expired, certainly; but there can’t be any doubt
about it. Germany can’t afford to yield about Belgium, and we can’t
afford to let her have a walk over. We may be quite sure that no
Englishman of fighting age will get away now without trouble. But your
friends will protect you; again I say, don’t consider me."
"That’s all right. In any case I don’t want to get Max Finkelstein into
a row."
"Of Amory & Finkelstein?"
"Yes; I’m Kenneth Amory. Do you speak German, by the way?"
"Like a native. I was at school at Heidelberg."
"That’s a help. But for the life of me I can’t think of a way of
getting out. When they discover our escape they’ll watch the stations,
the piers, and the roads. Our uniforms won’t be a bit of use."
"Oh! for the wings of a dove!--or an eagle would be more to the
purpose."
"By Jove! that gives me an idea. I’ve done some flying; I was going to
try for a place in our Flying Corps. If we could only bag an
aeroplane!"
"A sheer impossibility, I should say."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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