Kenneth's hopes rose. He saw the possibility of being able to slip past the plunging, terrified animal, and in order to improve his chances he let fly a couple of shots, both of which missed their mark. No longer was the long lance a menace. The Uhlan's whole efforts were centred in trying to keep his seat, while the now maddened animal snorted and plunged in a most frantic manner. Still grasping his revolver, although he made no further attempt to use it, the young dispatch-rider placed his wrist upon the right handle-grip in order to steady the steering. He shut his jaw tightly. The critical moment was nigh. Suddenly the horse backed, barring the narrow path to safety. Kenneth saw in the fraction of a second that a collision was inevitable. He had a momentary glimpse of the Uhlan's panic-stricken face, his staring eyes and wide-open mouth--then crash! [Illustration: KENNETH HAD A MOMENTARY GLIMPSE OF THE UHLAN'S PANIC-STRICKEN FACE ... THEN CRASH!] Hardly knowing whether he was injured or not, Kenneth scrambled to his feet. His motor-cycle was on its side within a yard of the prostrate and still kicking horse. His revolver had vanished. In his fall it had flown from his grasp into the ditch. The Uhlan lay upon the ground motionless--whether killed or merely stunned the lad knew not; nor had he an opportunity to ascertain, for in front of him was another German, and four hundred yards behind him the five or six who had cut off his retreat. The man in front had succeeded in regaining control over his less startled horse and, lance in rest, bore down upon the defenceless motor-cyclist. Hardly knowing how he did it, Kenneth cleared the ditch and sought a temporary refuge behind a tree. He realized that the respite would be but a brief one, for on the approach of the rest of the patrol his "number would be up". Infuriated by the mishap to their comrade, the savage Uhlans, whose chief mission it was to strike terror into the inhabitants of a conquered district, would not be likely to give quarter. Suddenly Kenneth's hand came in contact with the soda-water bottle that Rollo had pressed upon him. He drew it from his pocket, and as the Uhlan rode up to the edge of the ditch he dashed it to the ground at the feet of the restless horse. The result exceeded the lad's wildest expectations, for the bottle broke with a report almost equal to that of a small shell. Fragments of glass flew in all directions. The horse reared, maddened by the slight wounds caused by the sharp pieces of the broken bottle. Its rider, quite as terrified, formed but one conclusion, that the desperate Belgian (as he took Kenneth to be) was armed with bombs. Spurring his horse he rode for dear life towards his comrades, who, rendered cautious at the sight of two of their number being worsted, hesitated to advance.