It was nearly noon on Monday morning when the lads wended their way to the motor-repairer's. Outside the burgomaster's house a huge crowd had gathered. The chief magistrate was making ready to read a document. It was a copy of the momentous ultimatum from the bully of Europe to one of the smallest of her neighbours: a peremptory demand that the Belgian Government should allow the legions of the Kaiser to pass through Belgium in order to attack the least-defended frontier of France, and threatening to make war upon the little buffer State should she refuse. A dead silence greeted the burgomaster's announcement. The news, though not unexpected, was astounding. Again he spoke: "Fellow-townsmen! I can assure you that the spirit of independence lives amongst us. We will resist to the death this outrageous demand. Nor are we without powerful friends. Listen to the words of an appeal of our heroic Sovereign to the King of England: 'Remembering the numerous proofs of your Majesty's friendship and that of your predecessors, and the friendly attitude of England in 1870, and the proof of friendship you have just given us again, I make a supreme appeal to the diplomatic intervention of your Majesty's Government to safeguard the integrity of Belgium." "And what is the reply of the King of England?" shouted a voice. "If it has been received it has not up to the present been communicated to me," replied the chief magistrate pompously. "Rest assured that I, your burgomaster, will not be tardy in keeping the worthy burgesses fully posted with the latest news from the capital. If any of you still have faith in German promises, let me inform you it is definitely established that the German troops have already invaded the independent Grand Duchy of Luxemburg." The burgomaster withdrew, leaving the townsfolk to shout "Down with Germany!" "Long live England!" and cheer madly for their young king, who was yet to display proof of his personal courage. "It's getting serious," admitted Kenneth as the chums resumed their way. "I don't mind owning I was wrong in my opinion of German honesty. If they don't draw the line at Luxemburg they evidently won't at Belgium. Rollo, my boy, it's a mortal cert that Great Britain will be scrapping with Germany in less than a week." CHAPTER III Major Résimont "I vote we get off this main road with its wretched _pavé_," exclaimed Rollo prior to resuming their ride on the following day. "There's a road shown on the map which ought to be a jolly sight better. At any rate we'll miss most of the heavy traffic." "Right-o," assented Kenneth; "anything so long as we can have a speed-burst. I'm tired of crawling along at ten miles an hour." The road, which turned out to be little better than a cart-track, led a considerable distance from the left bank of the Meuse, and with the exception of an occasional farm wagon laden with hay, very little traffic was met with.