The report, though a piece of journalistic conjecture, afterwards proved to be very near to the mark. It was to the effect that Germany had declared war against Russia and also France, and that her troops were already pouring over the respective frontiers. To take all necessary precautions the King of the Belgians had ordered a mobilization, and had appealed to King George to assist him in preserving the integrity of his small kingdom. "You'll notice it says that it is reported," observed the cautious Rollo. "By Jove, if it is true, the Kaiser will have a handful. But, monsieur, surely Belgium will be out of it? Her integrity is protected by treaties." The Belgian officer shrugged his shoulders. "Let us hope so," he remarked. "We Belgians have little faith in the honour of a German. Therefore, we arm. Where do you propose to go?" "To Liége, monsieur." "Then do not go. It is not advisable. If you take my advice you return to England as soon as possible. Perhaps, soon, you come back again with a brave English army." "Whatever is the fellow aiming at?" asked Kenneth, after the officer was out of ear-shot. "It's all so very mysterious about nothing." "Do you call war between Germany and France and Russia nothing, old fellow?" "I wasn't referring to that," replied Kenneth. "Of course it is. The Russians will simply walk over Prussia while the Germans are trying to batter the French frontier forts. No; what I meant is, why should we be balked in going to Liége? We'll go, and risk it--though I don't believe there is any risk. If there is, so much the better for us." "Perhaps that Belgian officer knows more than he told us." "Or else less. I'll tell you what, Rollo. We'll see what's doing at Liége; then, if there's time, we'll run back almost to the French frontier and see what the excitement is like there. Let's make another start." The suggestion was quickly put into practice, but progress was tedious and slow. The highway between Namur and Liége was crowded with traffic. Military wagons, both motor-driven and drawn by horses and mules, seemed an unending stream. The rattling of the huge motor-lorries prevented the chauffeurs from hearing any sounds beyond the pulsations of their engines. In vain the two English lads sounded their horns. It was invariably a case of throwing out the clutch and waiting for a favourable moment to dash past, often with a bare yard between the off-side wheel of the powerful lorries and the deep ditch by the side of the road. There were thousands of troops, too, with their supply-carts; swarms of peasants driving cattle into the fortresses; motor-cars, motor-cycles, and ordinary cycles galore, till Rollo remarked, during one of the enforced halts, that it was ten times worse than Barnet Hill on fair night.