"But it is so," protested the corporal. The next day Max's report was one of indefinite progress. During the three following he made no mention of the brilliant feats of German arms. Kenneth rallied him on this point. "How far are the Germans from Paris to-day, Max?" For the first time Max showed signs of irritability. By accident he had seen in Colonel von Koenik's quarters a report of the check of the German armies' progress, and of their eastward movement. Following this came the news of von Kluck's defeat and disorderly retirement across the Marne. Too stupidly honest to keep the news to himself, Corporal Max blurted out the information that the advance upon Paris had been temporarily abandoned. "If it were not for the treacherous English," he added--"they are always meddling with other nations' business--we would have walked through the French and in Paris have been. Peace would be forced upon the French, and then I could return home to my wife." "But you told us that the British army was practically annihilated, Max," exclaimed Kenneth gleefully. "You English boys, I tell you word for word what was told me," protested Max in high dudgeon. "If you mock, then no more will I say." "Can we see Colonel von Koenik, Max?" The corporal looked at Kenneth in astonishment. "You have no complaint against me?" he asked. "Not in the least," replied Kenneth affably. "But we should very much like to see the Colonel." Max delivered the message, but von Koenik did not put in an appearance. Incidentally he discovered that the corporal had let out the momentous news of von Kluck's defeat, and Max had a very warm quarter of an hour in consequence. As a result, a surly Prussian was given the work of looking after the two English prisoners, and Max passed out of the lads' knowledge. September had well advanced. Kenneth and Rollo still existed in captivity, without the faintest opportunity of effecting their escape. Had there been the slightest chance of breaking out of their prison they would have taken it, but the vigilance of the sentries posted outside the place seemed untiring. About the twentieth of the month--the lads had lost all accurate idea of the date--there were signs of more than usual activity in Verviers. A cavalry brigade had arrived, accompanied by a huge transport column. From the solitary window of their room the prisoners were able to witness many of the movements of the troops. The square in front of the range of stores was packed with transport wagons, both motor and horse. The horses were picketed in lines between the regular rows of vehicles. The drivers stood by their charges, instead of being billeted on the inhabitants. Everything pointed to a hurriedly resumed journey. Presently Kenneth and his chum noticed that the Germans were deeply interested in something above and beyond the storehouse in which the lads were quartered.