But the intervening space had been carefully prepared for infantry. Trenches had been dug, barbed wire entanglements stretched from point to point, every natural feature adapted to the purposes of defence. At the present moment the trenches were not manned. Pariset learnt from a comrade in the flying corps that though the armistice had been refused, the Germans had not as yet renewed the attack. Their losses on the previous day had been very heavy, and the garrison were confident of their ability to repulse any further assaults if the Germans persisted in attacking in the same dense masses, and were not supported by heavier artillery than that which they had employed hitherto. Kenneth listened eagerly to the conversation between the two airmen. He learnt how the German infantry, covered by artillery, had advanced again and again in close formation, only to be hurled back by the fire from the forts and the trenches, followed up with the bayonet. The Belgians were amazed at the doggedness with which their enemy had pressed on, careless of cover, though great gaps were torn in their packed columns. Such a wastage of men pointed to a vast confidence in the ultimate superiority of numbers, the crushing of the defence by sheer weight rather than skill. Pariset explained, when Kenneth questioned him, the importance to the enemy of the capture of Liége. Encircled by its twelve forts, constructed by the engineering genius of General Brialmont, the town stood as a formidable obstacle to the advance of the Germans through the valley of the Meuse, the easiest way into France. Every day it could be held was a day’s delay in the prosecution of the enemy’s plan of campaign, which, as everybody knew, was to crush France before Russia had time to threaten Germany on her eastern border. "The Germans have, they think, a very perfect military machine," Pariset continued; "I daresay they have, though perhaps they are a little too cocksure about it. They’ve had no experience of war for forty years, and their easy victory in 1870 has possibly produced what you call swelled head. Anyhow, the most perfect machine may be dislocated by a little grit, and Liége, we hope, will be the little grit for the occasion. Now we had better get some lunch; then we’ll fly north. I’ll report myself to my commandant, and ask for leave to carry you to Ostend." They walked away to the rear of the lines, towards a cottage on which the canteen flag was flying. Before they reached it they met a general officer on horseback, cantering along accompanied by an aide-de-camp. Pariset saluted, the officers touched their hats and passed. "General Leman, commanding the forts," said Pariset. "He looked just like an Englishman," Kenneth replied.