Wagons were being hastily piled with household belongings, men were shouting, children were crying, and the whole scene was desolate and pitiful beyond description. The roads were so congested at these places that rapid progress was impossible. They had to thread their way among the crowd of vehicles, and in some cases were compelled to resort to the fields. But they made up for this on other stretches, and were congratulating themselves that on the whole they were making pretty good time when suddenly they were startled by a number of rifle shots and bullets whizzed by uncomfortably close. "It's the Huns!" cried Frank. "I didn't know they'd got as close as this!" exclaimed Bart. "More gas, Frank! Quick!" There were hoarse commands to halt, and another volley followed the first. At the same time a number of dark figures threw themselves in the road, shouting and waving their hands. Frank leaned forward, threw on all speed, and the machine responded with a leap that almost unseated the riders. The crowd in front scattered as the machine rushed at them, but one of them was not quick enough and was hurled twenty feet away. More shots followed the daring riders, but they were now beyond range. For another mile they kept up the killing pace and then Frank slowed up a little. "Ran right into their arms that time," he ejaculated. "We were mighty lucky to come through with a whole skin," replied Bart. "More than the machine has done, I'm afraid," remarked Frank. "I can tell by the way she runs that there's something wrong with the tires." He looked behind, and seeing no signs of pursuit, he stopped the motorcycle and dismounted. Something had indeed happened to the tires. Both the front and rear ones had been punctured by bullets. The air had gone out of them. "Hard luck," exclaimed Bart. "Never mind," returned Frank. "We'll ride her flat as long as we can and if worse comes to worse we'll ride her on the rims. We've got to get that message to the general no matter what happens." "We'll get it there if we have to travel on our hands and knees," affirmed Bart. "It won't come to that, I hope," laughed his companion, as he bound the flat tires fast with straps. Then he settled himself again in his seat and started the machine. It went along more slowly now, and their troubles were increased by the fact that their route had carried them into a main road that was filled with motor lorries--huge trucks loaded with men and supplies that rushed on with the speed almost of an express train.