"If we dash across country we may be seen," said Pariset. "If we take to the road we may meet more troops. But we can’t stay in the wood. The Uhlans will beat it thoroughly." "Could we climb a tree and hide in the foliage?" suggested Kenneth. "We mightn’t be as lucky as your Merry Monarch," said Pariset. "The fellows are capable of burning down the whole wood if they can’t find us. And in a very short time they are sure to draw a cordon round it. We must get out, somehow or other. If only the roads were hedged, like your English country roads, we should stand a chance." They were still discussing their quandary when they heard the rumble of an approaching cart. Looking eagerly ahead, they saw a large wagon piled with loose hay. The driver appeared to be a Belgian peasant. Beside him sat an armed soldier in the bluish grey German uniform. They seemed only half awake. The two horses were plodding slowly, with drooping heads. The appearance of men and beasts suggested that they had been travelling all night. There was a gleam in Kenneth’s eyes as he turned to Pariset. "Into the hay?" he whispered. "The wagon will pass the Uhlans," Pariset replied. "So much the better." "But the hay may be for their horses." "Not very likely. It must have been definitely requisitioned, and they wouldn’t dare to touch it." Pariset pondered. A faint sound came from the depths of the wood. "It’s our only chance," he said, "but in ten minutes we may have lances or bullets through us. A la bonne heure!" CHAPTER XV--HUNS AT PLAY The wagon rumbled heavily along the road. The two men stood just within the wood, watching the driver and the soldier, looking up and down the road with a half-formed fear that more troops would come in sight. They allowed the wagon to pass them; then, running behind it on tiptoe, they leapt up, and plunged into the hay, which was loosely piled, just as it had been pitched down from a looted rick. They burrowed their way through the scented mass, drawing it closely behind them to cover their tracks. The creaking of the cart wheels, the loud tramp of the big Flemish horses, the sleepiness of the men in front were all in their favour. They reached the forepart of the wagon without having attracted attention. Kenneth’s nostrils itched. It was lucky, he thought, that the hay was dry and the season far advanced, or a fit of sneezing would have betrayed him. To get air, and to enable them to see down the road, they made little gaps in the hay, scarcely broader than two fingers. Then they lay still, happy in their escape from the Uhlans, but desperately anxious about what might come. The wagon was travelling towards Luxemburg. Presently, muffled by the hay, the sound of men’s voices reached their ears. These continued for some minutes; no doubt they proceeded from the Uhlans in the wood. After about twenty minutes they heard a louder voice, close at hand. The wagon stopped.