Meanwhile, one of the younger officers, a strapping Westphalian, lurched toward Irene. She did not try to avoid him, thinking, perhaps, that a passive attitude was advisable. He caught her by the waist, and guffawed to his companions, "Didn't I offer to bet you fellows that Busch never made a mistake about a woman? Who'd have dreamed of finding a beauty like this one in a rotten old mill?" The Bavarians had collected their rifles and sidearms, and were going out sullenly. Each of the officers carried a sword and revolver. Irene saw that Dalroy had risen in his corner. She wrenched herself free. "How am I to prepare supper for you gentlemen if you bother me in this way?" she demanded tartly. "Behave yourself, Fritz," puffed the major. "Is that your idea of keeping your word? _Mama_, if she is discreet, will go to bed, and the young ones will eat with us.--Open that case of wine, orderly. I'm thirsty.--The girls will have a drink too. Cooking is warm work.--Hallo! What the devil! Kaporal, didn't you hear my order?" Dalroy grabbed Joos, who was livid with rage. The two girls were safe for the hour, and must endure the leering of four tipsy scoundrels. A row at the moment would be the wildest folly. "March!" he said gruffly. "The _oberleutnant_ doesn't want us here." "_Le brave Belge_ knows when to clear out," grinned one of the younger men, giving Dalroy an odiously suggestive wink. Somehow, the fact that Dalroy took command abated the women's terror; even the intractable Joos yielded. Soon the two were in the yard with the dispossessed Bavarians, these latter being in the worst of temper, as they had now to search for both bed and supper. They strode away without giving the least heed to their presumed prisoners. Joos, like most men of choleric disposition, was useless in a crisis of this sort. He gibbered with rage. He wanted to attack the intruders at once with a pitchfork. Dalroy shook him to quieten his tongue. "You must listen to me," he said sternly. The old man's eyes gleamed up into his. In the half-light of the gloaming they had the sheen of polished gold. "Monsieur," he whimpered, "save my little girl! Save her, I implore you. You English are lions in battle. You are big and strong. I'll help. Between us we can stick the four of them." Dalroy shook him again. "Stop talking, and listen," he growled wrathfully. "Not another word here! Come this way!" He drew the miller into an empty stable, whence the kitchen door and the window were in view. "Now," he muttered, "gather your wits, and answer my questions. Have you any hidden weapons? A pitchfork is too awkward for a fight in a room." "I had nothing but a muzzle-loading gun, monsieur. I gave it up on the advice of the burgomaster. They've killed him."