The Uhlan had evidently been trying to hide. He was crawling along as with an effort, and undoubtedly experiencing great physical pain in so doing, which went to prove that his injury was more than trifling. He must have heard the approach of the two American lads, for just as they discovered him amidst the bushes he drew himself up and faced about. Amos would never forget that sight of the wounded rough rider. His face was scratched and bleeding, doubtless caused by his hasty and reckless plunge into the bushes at the time he left his saddle. There was a defiant look on it, like that of a man who has given up all hope of coming out of the adventure with his life, yet meant to show a grim front to the foe, and go down with colors flying. “Tell him we’re not enemies, Jack!” exclaimed Amos, quickly, for the sight of that poor injured fellow gave him a cruel shock; he was reminded of a wretched dog at bay amidst a host of furious enemies, and the sensation was anything but pleasant to the boy. Jack had just the same notion in his mind. He held up both hands. This was an Indian custom which Jack had picked up during his life in the West. It meant that he did not have arms in his hands, and that his intentions were pacific. On the whole face of the earth there are few living human beings who would fail to understand the significance of the movement. The Uhlan was not devoid of ordinary intelligence, even though sadly rattled just then on account of his recent heavy fall. Slowly the two boys advanced. The man was staring hard at them. He looked as if he feared it might be only a cunning trick on the part of these treacherous British, for he undoubtedly believed they were of that nationality. “Point to your little American flag, Amos, while I try to get enough German words together to let him know where we belong,” said Jack. “That’s the ticket,” affirmed the other. “Jack, be sure and tell him that we stand ready to render first aid to the injured, if so be he’ll let us take a look at his hurts.” The Western boy grunted a little at this. He did not feel quite so kindly toward the invaders as Amos seemed to. Jack could not get out of his mind a whole lot of terrible things that he had seen with his own eyes, which marked the ruthless advance of the great German army through this part of Belgium; and which would of course be found in the wake of any invading host. The sack of the fine chateau so close at hand was only a minute example of what he had in mind. Still, Jack knew very well that individually each German soldier had little responsibility for such acts. The system back of them must bear all the blame for the devastation of the land, and the stern methods of reprisals against such Belgians as hampered their progress through the country.