Along the Chaussée de Louvain--one of the principal thoroughfares of Brussels--the melancholy procession passed. There were crowds of people about in addition to the numerous German troops. The citizens regarded their compatriots under arrest with suppressed feelings. They were afraid to make any demonstration of sympathy. The iron heel of Germany had crushed the spirit out of the Belgians who still remained in the fallen capital. "Do you know where they are taking us to?" asked Kenneth of the prisoner marching next to him, evidently a well-to-do business man before the great calamity that had overtaken him. "They say to Germany, there to work in the fields and help to feed our enemies," replied the man. "At all events, we have to march to Louvain and be entrained there." Kenneth's great fear was that Rollo would be unable to stand the strain of the long march. His ankle had improved, but he still limped slightly. "I'm all right," replied Rollo cheerily, in response to his chum's anxious enquiry. "It's better than being cooped up in that rotten hole. Besides," he added in a whisper, "we may get a chance of giving them the slip." So far the information given by the Belgian seemed to be correct. The prisoners were trudging along the highway leading to Louvain. Beyond that point, railway communication was now possible; for with their advance upon Brussels the German engineers had lost no time in repairing the lines and erecting temporary bridges in place of those sacrificed by the Belgians in their efforts to impede the enemy's advance. At twelve o'clock the prisoners reached the village of Cortenburg, about half-way between the capital and Louvain. Here they were halted, and driven into a church. For food and drink they had to depend upon the charity of the villagers, who, notwithstanding the fact that they had been despoiled by the invaders, gave the famished and travel-worn men bread and milk. For three hours Kenneth and his companions in adversity were kept under lock and key, while their escort, having obtained copious quantities of wine, were becoming boisterously merry. When, at length, the order was given to resume the march, some of the soldiers were so drunk that they could not stand. The sergeant thereupon ordered the villagers to provide two carts, and in these, lying on bundles of straw, the besotted men followed their comrades. Before the prisoners had covered a mile beyond Cortenburg an open motor-car dashed past. In spite of its great speed both Kenneth and Rollo recognized its occupants. They were Colonel von Koenik and Major Hoffmann. "They don't mean to get out of touch with us, old man," remarked Kenneth, after the car had disappeared in a cloud of dust. "I suppose they'll go on by train to whatever distance we are bound for. I'll warrant they'll be waiting at Louvain." "I wish I had the chance of bagging that motor-car," said Rollo. "It's a beauty. We'd be in Antwerp in less than an hour."