the knocking seemed to shake the house, so violent it was, so insistent; and stewart, petrified, stood staring numbly. but his companion was quicker than he. in an instant she had run to the light and blown it out. then she was back at his side.

"the moment they are in the house," she said, "raise the window as silently as you can and unbolt the shutter."

and then she was gone again, and he could hear her moving about near the door.

again the knocking came, louder than before. it could mean only one thing, stewart told himself—their ruse had been discovered—a party of soldiers had come to arrest them——

he drew a quick breath. what then? he closed his eyes dizzily—what had she said? "a file of soldiers in front, a wall behind!" but that should never be! they must kill him first! and then he sickened as he realized how puny he was, how utterly powerless to protect her——

he heard shuffling footsteps approach along the hall, and a glimmer of light showed beneath the door. for an instant stewart stared at it uncomprehending—then he smiled to himself. the girl, quicker witted than he, had pulled away the things that had been stuffed there.

"who is it?" called the voice of their landlady.

"it is i, frau ritter," answered the voice of the police agent. "open quickly."

a key rattled in a lock, the door was opened, and the party stepped inside.

stewart, at the window, raised the sash and pulled back the bolt. he could hear the confused murmur of voices—men's voices——

then he felt a warm hand in his and lips at his ear.

"it is the person from strassburg," she breathed. "he has been brought here for the night. there is no danger. bolt the shutter again—but softly."

she was gone again, and stewart, with a deep breath that was almost a sob, thrust home the bolt. the voices were clearer now—or perhaps it was the singing of his blood that was stilled—and he could hear their words.

"you will give this gentleman a room," said the secret agent.

"yes, excellency."

"how are your other guests?"

"i have heard nothing from them, excellency, since they retired."

suddenly stewart felt his hat lifted from his head and a hand rumpling his hair.

"take off your coat," whispered a voice. "open the door a little and demand less noise. say that i am asleep!"

it was a call to battle, and stewart felt his nerves stiffen. without a word he threw off his coat and tore off his collar. then he moved away the chair from before the door, opened it, and put one eye to the crack. there were five people in the hall—the woman, the secret agent, two soldiers, and a man in civilian attire.

"what the deuce is the matter out there?" he demanded.

it did his heart good to see how they jumped at the sound of his voice.

"your pardon, sir," said the officer, stepping toward him. "i hope we have not disturbed you."

"disturbed me? why, i thought you were knocking the house down!"

"frau ritter is a heavy sleeper," the other explained with a smile. "you will present my apologies to madame."

"my wife is so weary that even this has not awakened her, but i hope——"

"what is it, tommy?" asked a sleepy voice from the darkness behind him. "to whom are you talking out there?"

"your pardon, madame," said the officer, raising his voice, and doubtless finding a certain piquancy in the situation. "you shall not be disturbed again—i promise it," and he signed for his men to withdraw. "good-night, sir."

"good-night!" answered stewart, and shut the door.

he was so shaken with mirth that he scarcely heard the outer door close. then he staggered to the bed and collapsed upon it.

"oh, little comrade!" he gasped. "little comrade!" and he buried his head in the clothes to choke back the hysterical shouts of laughter which rose in his throat.

"hush! hush!" she warned him, her hand on his shoulder. "get your coat and hat. be quick!"

the search for those articles of attire sobered him. he had never before realized how large a small room may become in the dark! his coat he found in one corner; his hat miles away in another. his collar and tie seemed to have disappeared utterly, and he was about to abandon them to their fate, when his hand came into contact with them under the bed. he felt utterly exhausted, and sat on the floor panting for breath. then somebody stumbled against him.

"where have you been?" her voice demanded impatiently. "what have you been doing?"

"i have been around the world," said stewart. "and i explored it thoroughly."

her hand found his shoulder and shook it violently.

"is this a time for jesting? come!"

stewart got heavily to his feet.

"really," he protested, "i wasn't jesting——"

"hush!" she cautioned, and suddenly stewart saw her silhouetted against the window and knew that it was open. then he saw her peer cautiously out, swing one leg over the sill, and let herself down outside.

"careful!" she whispered.

in a moment he was standing beside her in the narrow street. she caught his hand and led him away close in the shadow of the wall.

the night air and the movement revived him somewhat, and by a desperate effort of will he managed to walk without stumbling; but he was still deadly tired. he knew that he was suffering from the reaction from the manifold adventures and excitements of the day, more especially the reaction from despair to hope of the last half hour, and he tried his best to shake it off, marveling at the endurance of this slender girl, who had borne so much more than he.

she went straight on along the narrow street, close in the shadow of the houses, pausing now and then to listen to some distant sound, and once hastily drawing him deep into the shadow of a doorway as a patrol passed along a cross-street.

then the houses came to an end, and stewart saw that they were upon a white road running straight away between level fields. overhead the bright stars shone as calmly and peacefully as though there were no such thing as war in the whole universe, and looking up at them, stewart felt himself tranquilized and strengthened.

"now what?" he asked. "i warn you that i shall go to sleep on my feet before long!"

"we must not stop until we are across the frontier. it cannot be farther than half a mile."

half a mile seemed an eternity to stewart at that moment; besides, which way should they go? he gave voice to the question, after a helpless look around, for he had completely lost his bearings.

"yonder is the great bear," said the girl, looking up to where that beautiful constellation stretched brilliantly across the sky. "what is your word for it—the ladle, is it not?"

"the dipper," stewart corrected, reflecting that this was the first time she had been at loss for a word.

"yes—the dipper. it will help us to find our way. all i know of astronomy is that a line drawn through the two stars of the bowl points to the north star. so that insignificant little star up yonder must be the north star. now, what is the old formula—if one stands with one's face to the north——"

"your right hand will be toward the east and your left toward the west," prompted stewart.

"so the frontier is to our left. come."

she released his hand, leaped the ditch at the side of the road, and set off westward across a rough field. stewart stumbled heavily after her; but presently his extreme exhaustion passed, and was followed by a sort of nervous exhilaration which enabled him easily to keep up with her. they climbed a wall, struggled through a strip of woodland—stewart had never before realized how difficult it is to go through woods at night!—passed close to a house where a barking dog sent panic terror through them, and came at last to a road running westward, toward belgium and safety. along this they hastened as rapidly as they could.

"we must be past the frontier," said stewart, half an hour later. "we have come at least two miles."

"let us be sure," gasped the girl. "let us take no chance!" and she pressed on.

stewart reflected uneasily that they had encountered no outposts, and surely there would be outposts at the frontier to maintain its neutrality and intercept stragglers; but perhaps that would be only on the main-traveled roads; or perhaps the outposts were not yet in place; or perhaps they might run into one at any moment. he looked forward apprehensively, but the road lay white and empty under the stars.

suddenly the girl stumbled and nearly fell. his arm was about her in an instant. he could feel how her body drooped against him in utter weariness. she had reached the end of her strength.

"come," he said; "we must rest," and he led her unresisting to the side of the road.

they sat down close together with their backs against the wall, and her head for an instant fell upon his shoulder. by a supreme effort, she roused herself.

"we cannot stay here!" she protested.

"no," stewart agreed. "do you think you can climb this wall? we may find cover on the other side."

"of course i can," and she tried to rise, but stewart had to assist her. "i do not know what is the matter," she panted, as she clung to him. "i can scarcely stand!"

"it's the reaction," said stewart. "it was bound to come, sooner or later. i had my attack back there on the road. now i am going to lift you on top of the wall."

she threw one leg over it and sat astride.

"oh, i have dropped the bundle," she said.

"have you been carrying it all this time?" stewart demanded.

"why, of course. it weighs nothing."

stewart, groping angrily along the base of the wall, found it, tucked it under his arm, scrambled over, and lifted her down.

"now, forward!" he said.

at the second step, they were in a field of grain as high as their waists. they could feel it brushing against them, twining about their ankles; they could glimpse its yellow expanse stretching away into the night.

"splendid!" cried stewart. "there could be no better cover!" and he led her forward into it. "now," he added, at the end of five minutes, "stand where you are till i get things ready for you," and with his knife he cut down great handfuls of the grain and piled them upon the ground. "there's your bed," he said, placing the bundle of clothing at one end of it; "and there's your pillow."

she sat down with a sigh of relief.

"oh, how heavenly!"

"you can go to sleep without fear. no one can discover us here, unless they stumble right over us. good-night, little comrade."

"but you?"

"oh, i am going to sleep, too. i'll make myself a bed just over here."

"good-night, my friend!" she said, softly, and stewart, looking down at her, catching the starry sheen of her uplifted eyes, felt a wild desire to fling himself beside her, to take her in his arms——

resolutely he turned away and piled his own bed at a little distance. it would have been safer, perhaps, had they slept side by side; but there was about her something delicate and virginal which kept him at a distance—and yet held him too, bound him powerfully, led him captive.

he was filled with the thought of her, as he lay gazing up into the spangled heavens—her beauty, her fire, her indomitable youth, her clear-eyed innocence which left him reverent and trembling. what was her story? where were her people that they should permit her to take such desperate risks? why had this great mission been confided to her—to a girl, young, inexperienced? and yet, the choice had evidently been a wise one. she had proved herself worthy of the trust. no one could have been quicker-witted, more ready of resource.

well, the worst of it was over. they were safe out of germany. it was only a question now of reaching a farmhouse, of hiring a wagon, of driving to the nearest station——

he stirred uneasily. that would mean good-by. but why should he go to brussels? why not turn south with her to france?

sleep came to him as he was asking himself this question for the twentieth time.

it was full day when he awoke. he looked about for a full minute at the yellow grain, heavy-headed and ready for the harvest, before he remembered where he was. then he rubbed his eyes and looked again—the wheat-field, certainly—that was all right; but what was that insistent murmur which filled his ears, which never ceased? he sat hastily erect and started to his feet—then as hastily dropped to his knees again and peered cautiously above the grain.

along the road, as far in either direction as the eye could see, passed a mighty multitude, marching steadily westward. stewart's heart beat faster as he ran his eyes over that great host—thousands and tens of thousands, clad in greenish-gray, each with his rifle and blanket-roll, his full equipment complete to the smallest detail—the german army setting forth to war! oh, wonderful, astounding, stupendous!—a myriad of men, moving as one man, obeying one man's bidding, marching out to kill and to be killed.

and marching willingly, even eagerly. the bright morning, the sense of high adventure, the exhilaration of marching elbow to elbow with a thousand comrades—yes, and love of country, the thought that they were fighting for their fatherland—all these uplifted the heart and made the eye sparkle. forgotten for the moment were poignant farewells, the tears of women and of children. the round of daily duties, the quiet of the fireside, the circle of familiar faces—all that had receded far into the past. a new life had begun, a larger and more glorious life. they felt that they were men going forward to men's work; they were drinking deep of a cup brimming with the joy of supreme experience!

there were jests and loud laughter; there were snatches of song; and presently a thousand voices were shouting what sounded to stewart like a mighty hymn—shouting it in slow and solemn unison, marked by the tramp, tramp of their feet. not until he caught the refrain did he know what it was—"deutschland, deutschland, über alles!"—the german battle-song, fit expression of the firm conviction that the fatherland was first, was dearest, must be over all! and as he looked and listened, he felt his own heart thrill responsively, and a new definition of patriotism grouped itself in his mind.

then suddenly he remembered his companion, and, parting the wheat, he crawled hastily through into the little amphitheater where he had made her bed. she was still asleep, her head pillowed on the bundle of clothing, one arm above her eyes, shielding them from the light. he sat softly down beside her, his heart very tender. she had been so near exhaustion; he must not awaken her——

a blare of bugles shrilled from the road, and from far off rose a roar of cheering, sweeping nearer and nearer.

the girl stirred, turned uneasily, opened her eyes, stared up at him for a moment, and then sat hastily erect.

"what is it?" she asked.

"the german army is advancing."

"yes—but the cheering?"

"i don't know."

side by side, they peered out above the grain. a heavy motor-car was advancing rapidly from the east along the road, the troops drawing aside to let it pass, and cheering—cheering, as though mad.

inside the car were three men, but the one who acknowledged the salutes of the officers as he passed was a tall, slender young fellow in a long, gray coat. his face was radiant, and he saluted and saluted, and once or twice rose to his feet and pointed westward.

"the crown prince!" said the girl, and watched in heavy silence until the motor passed from sight and the host took up its steady march again. "ah, well, he at least has realized his ambition—to lead an army against france!"

"it seems to be a devoted army," stewart remarked. "i never heard such cheering."

"it is a splendid army," and the girl swept her eyes back and forth over the marching host.

"france will have no easy task—but she is fighting for her life, and she will win!"

"i hope so," stewart agreed; but his heart misgave him as he looked at these marching men, sweeping on endlessly, irresistibly, in a torrent which seemed powerful enough to engulf everything in its path.

he had never before seen an army, even a small one, and this mighty host unnerved and intimidated him. it was so full of vigor, so self-confident, so evidently certain of victory! it was so sturdy, so erect, so proud! there was about it an electric sense of power; it almost strutted as it marched!

"there is one thing certain," he said, at last, "and that is that our adventures are not yet over. with our flight discovered, and germans in front of us and behind us and probably on either side of us, our position is still decidedly awkward. i suppose their outposts are somewhere ahead."

"yes, i suppose so," she agreed. "along the meuse, perhaps."

"and i am most awfully hungry. aren't you?"

"yes, i am."

"i have heard that whole wheat makes a delicious breakfast dish," said stewart, who felt unaccountably down-hearted and was determined not to show it. "shall we try some?"

she nodded, smiling, then turned back to watch the germans, as though fascinated by them. stewart broke off a dozen heads of yellow grain, rubbed them out between his hands, blew away the chaff, and poured the fat kernels into her outstretched palm. then he rubbed out a mouthful for himself.

"but that they should invade belgium!" she said, half to herself. "did you hear what that man said last night—that a treaty was only a scrap of paper—that if belgium resisted, she would be crushed?"

"yes," nodded stewart, "and it disgusted me!"

"but of course france has expected it—she has prepared for it!" went on the girl, perhaps to silence her own misgivings. "she will not be taken by surprise!"

"you don't think, then, that the kaiser will dine in paris on the twelfth?"

"nonsense—that was only an empty boast!"

"well, i hope so," said stewart. "and wherever he dines, i hope that he has something more appetizing than whole wheat au naturel. i move we look for a house and try to get some real food that we can put our teeth into. also something to drink."

"yes, we must be getting forward," she agreed.

together they peered out again above the grain. the massed column was still passing, shimmering along the dusty road like a mighty green-gray serpent.

"isn't there any end to these fellows?" stewart asked. "we must have seen about a million!"

"oh, no; this is but a single division—and there are at least a hundred divisions in the german army! no doubt there is another division on each of the roads leading into belgium. we shall have to keep away from the roads. let us work our way back through the grain to that strip of woodland. no," she added, as stewart stooped to pick up the bundle of clothing, "we must leave that. if we should happen to be stopped, it would betray us. what are you doing?"

without replying, stewart opened the bundle, thoughtfully selected a strand of the beautiful hair inside it and placed the lock carefully in a flapped compartment of his pocket-book. then he re-tied the bundle and threw over it some of the severed stalks.

"it seems a shame to leave it," he said. "that is a beautiful gown—and the hair! think of those barbarians opening the bundle and finding that lovely hair!"

the girl, who had been watching him with brilliant eyes, laughed a little and caught his hand.

"how foolish! come along! i think i shall let you keep that lock of hair!" she added, thoughtfully.

stewart looked at her quickly and saw that the dimple was visible.

"thank you!" he said. "of course i should have asked. forgive me!"

she gave him a flashing little smile, then, bending low, hurried forward through the grain. beyond the field lay a stretch of woodland, and presently they heard the sound of running water, and came to a brook flowing gently over a clean and rocky bed.

with a cry of delight, the girl dropped to her knees beside it, bent far over and drank deep; then threw off her coat, pushed her sleeves above her elbows, and laved hands and face in the cool water.

"how fortunate my hair is short!" she said, contemplating her reflection. "otherwise it would be a perfect tangle. i make a very nice boy, do you not think so?"

"an adorable boy!" agreed stewart, heartily.

she glanced up at him.

"thank you! but are you not going to wash?"

"not until you have finished. you are such a radiant beauty, that it would be a sin to miss an instant of you. my clothes are even more becoming to you than your own!"

she glanced down over her slender figure, so fine, so delicately rounded, then sprang quickly to her feet and snatched up the coat.

"i will reconnoiter our position while you make your toilet," she said, and slipped out of sight among the trees.

ten minutes later, stewart found her seated on a little knoll at the edge of the wood, looking out across the country.

"there is a house over yonder," she said, nodding to where the corner of a gable showed among the trees. "but it may be dangerous to approach it."

"we can't starve," he pointed out. "and we seem to be lucky. suppose i go on ahead?"

"no; we will go together," and she sprang to her feet.

the way led over a strip of rocky ground, used evidently as a pasture, but there were no cattle grazing on it; then along a narrow lane between low stone walls. presently they reached the house, which seemed to be the home of a small farmer, for it stood at the back of a yard with stables and sheds grouped about it. the gate was open and there was no sign of life within. stewart started to enter, but suddenly stopped and looked at his companion.

"there is something wrong here," he said, almost in a whisper. "i feel it."

"so do i," said the girl, and stared about at the deserted space, shivering slightly. then she looked upward into the clear sky. "it was as if a cloud had come between me and the sun," she added.

"perhaps it is just that everything seems so deserted," said stewart, and stepped through the gate.

"no doubt the people fled when they saw the germans," she suggested; "or perhaps it was just a rumor that frightened them away."

stewart looked about him. it was not only people that were missing from this farmyard, he told himself; there should have been pigs in the sty, chickens scratching in the straw, pigeons on the roof, a cat on the door-step.

"we must have food," he said, and went forward resolutely to the door, which stood ajar.

there was something vaguely sinister in the position of the door, half-open and half-closed, but after an instant's hesitation, he knocked loudly. a minute passed, and another, and there was no response. nerving himself as though for a mighty effort, he pushed the door open and looked into the room beyond.

it was evidently the living-room and dining-room combined, and it was in the wildest disorder. chairs were overturned, a table was lying on its side with one leg broken, dishes lay smashed upon the floor.

summoning all his resolution, stewart stepped inside. what frightful thing had happened here? from the chairs and the dishes, it looked as if the family had been surprised at breakfast. but where was the family? who had surprised them? what had——

and then his heart leaped sickeningly as his eyes fell upon a huddled figure lying in one corner, close against the wall. it was the body of a woman, her clothing disordered, a long, gleaming bread-knife clutched tightly in one hand; and as stewart bent above her, he saw that her head had been beaten in.