For the next few days Max and his friend were again more or less buried from the outer world. They had not, however, altogether forgotten the great events that were taking place, and on reaching Bingen went so far (for them) as to purchase a paper. Matters, they found, had grown far more serious. Germany was already at war with Russia and France, and had demanded of Belgium free passage for her troops to enter and attack France. Max was thunderstruck. He had never expected anything like this. That Belgium, peace-loving Belgium, with her neutrality guaranteed by practically all the great civilized Powers, should, in spite of it, be about to be forced into a great European war had seemed unthinkable. Yet so it was, and it seemed that war was inevitable, for Max did not believe Belgium would ever allow foreign troops to cross her territory to attack a country with which she was at peace. With Belgium, then, on the verge of war, it behoved him to look to his own safety; for it was obvious he was not safe where he was. "I think we had better make tracks for home, Dale," he said soberly. "I dare say I can pass with you as an Englishman, but it won't do to take risks. Our bag should be at the Central Post Office, so let us get it and take the first train back to Liege." "If there are any trains bound for the frontier that are not crammed with troops," responded Dale somewhat significantly. "Oh, shut up! Come along and let's see." They lost not a moment in getting their bag and having it conveyed to the railway station. Fully alive to the situation, they now kept their eyes well open and noticed things they would never have noticed before. For one thing, it struck them that the post office official who handed their bag over to them seemed decidedly over-curious, and remarked that he supposed they were going to the railway station. That was disconcerting enough, but when they arrived at the station, and were almost immediately accosted by a man whom they both remembered seeing inside the post office, they felt almost as though they were already under lock and key. Not that the man was unfriendly. He was quite the reverse. He seemed anxious to strike up an acquaintance, wished to know exactly where they were going, and gave them to understand that there was nothing he desired more than to be allowed the privilege of making a part of the journey with them. Max presently gave Dale a meaning glance. It was all very well for an Englishman like Dale, he felt, but for him, virtually a Belgian, the situation was wellnigh desperate. "I say, Dale," he said casually, "we must have some sandwiches to eat in the train. Stay here by the bag while I get some--or perhaps this gentleman wouldn't mind looking after it for a moment?"