Kenneth and Rollo found themselves with two other dispatch-riders at the rear of the column. The other motor-cyclists had gone on a journey that knows no return. There was also a detachment of twenty cyclists belonging to the regiment, but most of these silent scouts were far afield, making certain that the line of retreat was in no danger of being ambushed by the wily Uhlans. The route lay between Forts de Hollogne and de Flémalle, through tortuous by-lanes. Over and over again the column was obliged to halt owing to the congestion of the roads, for twenty thousand Belgian troops--field artillery, cavalry, and infantry--were evacuating the doomed city that night. Before they were clear of the environs of Liége, Rollo began to feel the effects of his adventure with the German officers. The sweat poured from him as he gamely pushed his unwieldy motor-cycle. Anxiously Kenneth watched him, unable to give assistance save by a few words of encouragement. Every time there was a halt Rollo leant across the saddle, welcoming the rest, yet dreading the exertion required to resume the tortuous march. To lag behind was to risk capture, for small parties of Uhlans were known to have penetrated into the villages of Hollogne and Montegnée, which lay between the as yet unconquered forts and the city of Liége; otherwise he would have fallen out, waited till dawn, and then cycled to overtake the regiment. During one of these short, unavoidable, halts a voice came through the darkness. "Monsieur Everest--is Monsieur Everest there?" "Here I am, sir," replied Kenneth, recognizing the voice as that of Captain Planchenoît. "Ah, good! I wish to enquire after your English comrade." "He is here, sir." "Ah, again good! I thought he would be unfit to move." "He's not very much up to the mark, sir." The captain flashed an electric torch upon the motor-cyclists. "Ciel! you are indeed right, Monsieur Everest. I will see to matters. Private Roulaix," he added, addressing a Belgian who was walking his "push-bike", "place your bicycle in the first wagon that passes. Say that I, Captain Planchenoît, orders it. Then relieve your English comrade of his motor-cycle. Monsieur Barrington, as soon as Private Roulaix returns I will take you to one of the wagons. You are not, at present, fit to walk, still less to push that motor-cycle." For the rest of that night Kenneth was without the company of his chum. As the grey dawn began to break, he too felt that he was nearly done up, but still the steady retreat continued. It was not until six o'clock in the morning that the 9th Regiment of the Line was ordered to bivouac outside the village of Omal. Here trenches were dug, barbed-wire entanglements set up, barns and cottages loopholed and placed in a state of defence in order to keep in check the German hordes until the expected aid was forthcoming.