"Our vedettes, without doubt," declared the Belgian officer, leisurely unstrapping his field-glasses. Before he could get them to bear, Kenneth was sweeping the country with his powerful binoculars. There was no mistake: the cavalry were Uhlans. They had already spotted the convoy, and were advancing at the trot to capture or destroy the weakly-protected mail escort. Just then came a dull rumble at some distance to the rear of the line of halted cars. The enemy had blown up the railway bridge on the line between Charleroi and the north, thus cutting off the retreat of the convoy. "Mon capitaine," exclaimed one of the cyclists who had been given a place in one of the cars; "I know this part of the country well. A kilometre farther on is a road to the right. It will bring us to Ligny." The officer gave one glance towards the advancing Uhlans, now barely a mile and a half away. "En avant!" he ordered. It was touch-and-go which would first reach the junction of the roads. Only a momentary hesitation on the part of the Uhlans saved the situation, for, seeing the convoy advance at full speed, they feared an attack by the already dreaded motor-cars armed with mitrailleuses. But as the convoy swung round the sharp corner a hail of bullets came from the carbines of the German cavalry; then, realizing that their discretion had got the better of their valour, the Uhlans dashed in pursuit. The Belgians cheered ironically. The idea of horses competing with motor-cars seemed absurd. The latter covered three yards to the Uhlans' one, and every moment the animals were becoming more and more fatigued. Suddenly Rollo gave vent to a warning shout. Ahead was the village of Ligny, but between the convoy and the nearest houses were dense masses of cavalry. Their capture seemed inevitable. Again the motor-cars came to a halt. The Belgian captain saw that he was in a trap. "Turn about!" he ordered. "We must charge these Prussians behind us. It will be easier to force our way through a hundred than----" "Mon capitaine!" shouted an excited voice. The Belgian officer turned, almost angrily. "We are saved--regardez!" continued the speaker, pointing to the railway line about three hundred yards to the right of the road. Making their way along the hollow by the side of the line were swarms of men in blue coats, red trousers, and kepis. There was no mistaking them: they were French troops. The cavalry, too, close to the village of Ligny were French chasseurs. The long-expected aid had become an accomplished fact. French armies were on Belgian soil. Already the Uhlans had perceived their peril. They turned and rode for dear life. Up came a group of French officers. Gravely they exchanged salutes with the commander of the convoy.