He looked out across the water, flowing strong and deep, mysterious and impressive in the darkness, powerful, unhurried, alert--as if grimly conscious of its task, and rejoicing in it; for this stream which was holding the Germans back had its origin away southward in the heart of France. He could not see the other bank, but he knew that it was at least two hundred yards away. "If we could find a boat!" he added. "We saw plenty of them this afternoon." "We dare not use a boat," the girl objected. "We should be seen and fired upon." "Do you mean to swim?" Stewart demanded. "Be more careful!" she cautioned. "Someone may hear us," and she drew him down into the shadow of the bank. "Unfortunately, I cannot swim, but no doubt you can." "I'm not what would be called an expert, but I think I could swim across this river. However, I absolutely refuse to try to take you over. It would be too great a risk." "If we had a plank or log, I could hold to it while you pushed it along. If you grew tired, you could rest and drift for a time." Stewart considered the plan. It seemed feasible. A drifting plank would attract no attention from the shore--the river was full of débris from the operations around Liège--and, whether they got across or not, there would be no danger of either of them drowning. And they ought to get over, for it would be no great task to work a plank across the stream. "Yes, I think I could do that," he said at last. "Let us see if we can find a plank." There was nothing of the sort along the shore, though they searched it for some distance; but opposite the foundry they came upon a pile of the square wooden sand-boxes in which castings are made. Stewart, when he saw them, chuckled with satisfaction. "Just the thing!" he said. "Providence is certainly on our side to-night!" "I hope so!" breathed the girl, and between them they carried one of the boxes down to the edge of the water. Then, after a moment's hesitation, Stewart sat down and began to take off his shoes. "We shall have to get rid of our clothing," he said, in the most matter-of-fact tone he could muster. "There is nothing heavier than clothes when they get water-soaked. Besides, we've got to keep them dry if we can. If we don't, we shall nearly freeze to death after we leave the water--and they'll betray us a mile off!" The girl stood for a moment staring out across the river. Then she sat down with her back to him. "You are quite right," she agreed, quietly, and bent above her shoes. "We'll turn the box upside down and put our clothes upon it," went on Stewart, cheerfully. "They will keep dry there. The water isn't very cold, probably, but we shall be mighty glad to have some dry things to get into once we are out of it." She did not reply, and Stewart went rapidly on with his undressing. When that was finished, he rolled his trousers, shoes and underclothing into a compact bundle inside his coat, and tied the sleeves together.