The full moon was sailing high above the eastern hills, and he could see distinctly the wall they had just crossed, with the white road behind it, and beyond that the dense shadow of the wood. It was on the strip of road he kept his eyes, but no living creature crossed it and at last he felt a touch upon his arm. "My turn now!" the girl whispered. Stewart sat down upon the ground, wiped the mud from his feet, shook the gravel from his shoes, drew on his socks and laced his shoes properly. As he started to get up, he felt a sudden sharp twinge in his shoulder. "What is it?" asked the girl, quickly, for an exclamation of pain had burst from him before he could choke it back. "Nothing at all!" he said, and rose, gingerly. "I touched a raw place, where a briar scratched me. I seem to be composed largely of raw places--especially as to my feet. How are yours?" "One of them hurts a little--not enough to mention." "You're sure you can walk?" "Certainly--or run, if need be." "Then we had better push on a little farther. The Germans are still too close for comfort. Keep your back to the moon--I'll act as rear-guard." For a moment she looked up questioningly into his face. "You are sure you are not hurt?" she asked. "Perfectly sure." "I was afraid you had been shot--I saw how you placed yourself between me and the river!" "The merest accident," he assured her. "Besides, those fellows couldn't shoot!" She gazed up at him yet a moment, her lips quivering; then she turned and started westward through the field. Falling in behind, Stewart explored his wounded shoulder cautiously with his fingers. He could feel that his shirt was wet with blood, but the stabbing pain had been succeeded by a sharp stinging which convinced him that it was only a flesh-wound. Folding his shirt back, he found it at last, high in the shoulder above the collar-bone. "That was lucky!" he told himself, as he pressed his handkerchief over it, rebuttoned his shirt, and pushed on after his comrade. "Half an inch lower and the bone would have been smashed!" Away to the south, they could hear the thunder of the Liège forts, and Stewart, aching from his own slight injury, thought with a shudder of the poor fellows who had to face that deadly fire. No doubt it was to this fresh attack the troops had been marched which they had seen crossing the river. It was improbable that the invaders would risk pushing westward until the forts were reduced; and so, when the fugitives came presently to a road which ran northwestwardly, they ventured to follow it. "We would better hide somewhere and rest till daylight," Stewart suggested, at last. "We have had a hard day." He himself was nearly spent with fatigue and hunger, and his shoulder was stiff and sore. "Very well," the girl agreed. "I too am very tired. Where shall we go?" Stewart stopped and looked about him.