After innumerable short windings the road ran straight for a considerable distance. The leading horsemen, now within a hundred yards of the car, began to fire as they rode. Pariset instantly replied, working the gun in a long arc from left to right. It was not for nothing that the German staff had made the machine gun one of the predominant features of their armament. Under the pitiless hail of bullets horses and men went down like grass under the scythe. The Hussars behind slowed down, allowing the car to increase its lead, but still keeping it in view, hoping no doubt that an accident, an obstacle, a piece of clumsy steering, would bring its career to an end. They might then close upon it and surround it without having to face that terrible machine gun again. Pariset, for his part, anxious not to attract the attention of any enemies who might be ahead, ceased fire as soon as the pursuit slackened. Their direction was towards Liége. Now and then they caught sight of the Ourthe, winding below them on their left, but there was no sign of a bridge. Mile after mile passed. The road was a continual up and down; on each side was a variegated landscape of meadows, richly wooded slopes and frowning cliffs. The sight of the railway crossing the river reminded Kenneth that they were approaching the scene of their exploit; but Pariset had no eyes for anything but the helmets of the Uhlans bobbing up and down on the road far behind. Presently they dashed past a battalion of infantry marching in the same direction. The men all looked dead tired, and took little or no notice of the car as it passed at increased speed. A few minutes later they skirted the chateau of Hamoir, then ascended a steep hill, the engine knocking alarmingly, and rushing through the village of Louveigne suddenly came in sight of an immense military encampment. Far to left and right of the road stretched the lines of the Germans encircling Liége. Tents, carts, caissons, batteries of artillery, men on horse and on foot extended as far as the eye could reach. But there was no sign of active operations. Troops were drilling on open spaces, practising the ridiculous goose-step; men off duty were strolling about. Smoke ascended from innumerable travelling kitchens. Horsemen were riding this way and that: a motor cyclist was dashing away to the east. When this spectacle flashed upon the view, Kenneth slowed down. His face was pale. "Push through and trust to luck?" he said to Granger at his side. "There’s nothing else for it, with pursuers hot on our track," replied Granger. "Speed about ten miles, but be ready to let her out."