Page 168 - A Hero of Liége

With shells hurtling around at intervals of a few seconds Kenneth, so intent
upon his work as to be scarcely conscious of them, steered the car up the

road, taking the curves at a pace that would have made his hair stand on
end at less critical times. It almost seemed that he and his companions had

charmed lives. At moments, as the road wound, the fort came in sight
beyond the ruined village-burnt by the Belgians to clear their line of fire.
Would they reach it in safety? The nearer they approached it, the greater

their danger. The gunners had the range of the fort; a shell falling short
even by a few yards might strike the car at the very moment when escape

seemed sure.

"Only half a mile more!" Pariset said, in a hoarse whisper from his parched

lips.

Two seconds afterwards there was a stunning report and a blinding flash,
apparently from beneath the car. It spun round and round like a teetotum,
then fell over to one side with a crash.

For a few moments the three men were too much shaken to move. In the

consciousness of them all those moments were a blank. They lay on the
roadside where they had been thrown, like dead men. Then they realised
with a shock of surprise that they were alive. Pariset was up first. Before he

had time to stagger to the others, Kenneth sprang to his feet. Granger
moved more slowly, and when he too stood erect, it was seen that his false

beard was gone.

"I feel cold," he said, touching his chin, and smiling, though he was pale as

death.

They glanced at the car. The off front wheel had disappeared; the off hind
wheel was buckled; the bonnet and radiator were a mass of twisted iron. It
was a complete wreck.

A shell bursting little more than a hundred yards away warned them to be

gone, and they started to run towards the fort.