"Good!" exclaimed the lancer, his eyes glistening at the prospect of food. "But there are others--three comrades of mine. We have not eaten anything to-day but raw turnips, and raw turnips are not very sustaining food on which to make a cavalry charge. It was in front of Cortenaeken that I got this," and he pointed to his wounded leg. "Yet it is nothing," he added lightly, "a mere scratch; but I repaid the Prussian who gave it to me. Ah! This is what I require. I will now be able to discard this rifle. My own carbine is within." He had stopped in the midst of his narrative, and was pointing to a hay-rake that rested in a corner of the wall. "I will knock off the teeth and shorten the handle. Ciel! It will make an excellent crutch. As for the rifle, I may safely throw it down the well, unless you, monsieur, might care to have it. It may be useful to you." "I have no cartridges." "We have enough--about four hundred between the four of us. Nevertheless, you will have to clean the barrel carefully, for it is caked with earth. If you fired it in that state, without doubt it would do you more harm than the man at whom you pointed it. There, did I not say so?" With a wave of his disengaged arm the Belgian indicated a cloud of dust rising from the road. "We must hasten, yet be cautious," he continued. "That dust hides a column of German infantry." Kenneth followed his new comrade into the house. The upper floor had almost disappeared. The ground floor was littered with charred fragments of rafters and boards, cakes of plaster and partly-burned thatch, in addition to broken articles of furniture. The parting-walls had been overthrown, so that the interior of the building presented the appearance of an open space. Scrambling over the debris the wounded lancer made his way to a corner of the tottering walls. He stooped painfully and with considerable effort, and thrusting his fingers between the rubbish took hold of an iron ring. At this he heaved, and lifted a large flap about six inches. "Assist me, monsieur," he said. "I am not quite so strong as I was four hours ago." "One minute," exclaimed Kenneth. "I'll clear some of this rubbish away." "Tiens!" ejaculated the Belgian. "Let it remain, for when we let the flap fall it will spread and hide the cracks in the floor. No one will then suspect that there is a cellar. Now, lift together.--Soyez tranquille!" he shouted, to reassure his comrades in hiding. At a gesture from his newly-found friend, Kenneth descended the steep wooden ladder till his feet touched the stone floor of the cellar. The Belgian lancer followed more slowly, uttering maledictions under his breath at every step. Another of the occupants of the cellar ascended, and pulled the flap down with a resounding crash. The place seemed in total darkness. "A new comrade--an Englishman in the service of our country," announced the lancer; and Kenneth's hands were warmly grasped by his unseen hosts.