He set off behind the boy. The causeway, he remembered, ran beside the little river Roer, that fell into the Meuse farther west at Roermond. He needed no guide, and indeed did not intend to go right up to the scene of the breakdown; but the boy was useful as a cloak to his real design. Half an hour’s walk across the fields brought him to a hayrick something less than a mile from the spot. "I ought to be able to get a view from the top of that," he thought. Bidding the boy wait below, he climbed a ladder set against the side of the rick, raised his field-glasses to his eyes, and adjusted the focus. Meanwhile two old farm labourers had slouched across the field and asked a question of the boy, which he answered in a word. Kenneth had reason to congratulate himself on having gone no farther. Between him and the causeway a half-troop of cavalry had off saddled, and were smoking near the broken traction engine, which had apparently swerved over the edge, and completely blocked the road. Behind it were two huge lorries, carrying between them a large mass of indefinite shape covered with tarpaulin. At the further end of the causeway was another traction engine with a similar load. Besides the spick and span cavalry there were a number of men in dirty clothes, some of whom appeared to be engaged in tinkering at the engine. "Those are the heavy guns, without a doubt," thought Kenneth. "I wish I could have a good look at them, but I’m afraid it’s too risky. I might have guessed there would be a cavalry escort." Obviously it was dangerous to attempt to carry off his imposture with the German officers. It would have been another matter if only the motor men had been concerned. He was disappointed. As he continued to gaze, however, an idea flashed into his mind. It was pretty clear that the road would remain blocked until some contrivance had been rigged up for lifting the engine. Would Pariset venture a bold stroke? It would be a feather in his cap if he could destroy one, perhaps two, of these monster siege guns. Shutting up his glasses, he climbed down the ladder, ignored the labourers and their humble salute, and began to hurry back in the direction of the farm. Surprised, the boy stood watching him for a few moments. Then he ran after him, and, plucking up courage, said-- "Will not the Herr Captain go on and get the petrol?" "I will come in the aeroplane, boy; we have enough to bring us here." The boy, rather crestfallen, had to trot to keep pace with Kenneth’s long strides. He had hoped to receive a few pfennigs for carrying the petrol. Kenneth, busy with his thoughts, forgot the youngster until he was paying the civil farm people for his food. Then, catching sight of the boy’s woebegone face, he handed him a silver coin that drove the clouds away. It was lucky, he reflected, that he still had some German money in his possession. A Belgian coin would have given him away.