"What on earth is to be done?" cried Kenneth, looking helplessly at the carts, while Pariset and Granger kept on the watch for any sign of the enemy returning. A shot from the machine gun would probably be ineffective, even at short range; the bullet would hardly dent the chain, much less shatter it and release the carts. At this critical moment the transport wagon which they had passed some way back appeared on the crest of the hill behind them, and sounded its horn. Kenneth had a flash of inspiration. "Look out for the Grenadiers, Remi," he cried. "There’s no sign of them, but they may come back. If they do, turn the gun on to them." "What are you going to do?" shouted Pariset, as Kenneth ran up the incline towards the halted wagon. "Commandeer the wagon for a battering ram. There’s apparently no escort. Back the car well away to the right." Reaching the wagon, he said to the driver: "The rascally enemy has blocked the road, as you see. The carts there are chained together. Get out, quickly!" The three infantrymen in the wagon were obviously amazed, not so much at being ordered about by a Uhlan, as at the apparent purposelessness of the command. They got out, however, and were still more astonished when the masterful Uhlan mounted into their place, and after a glance at the car below, released the brakes, let in the clutch, and sent the wagon lumbering down the hill. For a few seconds, while the vehicle was gathering speed, Kenneth steered straight; then, turning the wheel so as to give a slight tendency to the left, he sprang off, fell sprawling, jumped up and ran after the wagon, watching its course eagerly. On it thundered, every moment faster. Would it reach the foot of the hill, or swerve into the bank on the left? On, and on--and then, at a speed of twenty miles an hour, it struck the left-hand cart with a terrific crash, and threw both cart and itself in a pile of wreckage up the bank and into the field beyond. The chain connecting the carts had snapped like rotten cord. [Illustration: CLEARING THE ROAD] "Bravo!" shouted the two men waiting beside the motor-car. Rushing forward, they helped Kenneth to draw the released cart to one side, leaving a clear space between it and the wreckage. Then they leapt into the car, waved their hands to the astonished motormen above, and started forward towards Durbuy and safety. "We are all right now--unless the Germans are in greater force than I believe," said Granger, taking a map from his pocket. "If we can cross the river at Durbuy, we can run due west to Dinant, where we shall probably find the Belgian, or maybe the French lines. Then we can swing northwards, and get to headquarters somewhere between Tirlemont and Brussels."