Staffs in hand, clad
in the short knickerbockers, the khaki shirts and the wide campaign
hats that mark the Boy Scout all over the world, they were enough of a
spectacle to draw the attention of the busy citizens of Liege, who
stopped to watch them admiringly. Their scoutmaster, Armand Van Verde,
had been addressing them. And now in the fading light of the late
afternoon, he dismissed them.
At once the troop broke up, first into patrols, then into small
individual groups of two or three. The faces of the scouts were grave
for it was serious news indeed that Van Verde had communicated to the
troop at the meeting just ended. Paul Latour called sharply to his
great friend, Arthur Waller.
"Come on, Arthur," he said. "We'd better be getting along home. There
may be something for us to do."
"All right," agreed Arthur, cheerfully. He was a little younger than
his chum, and was nearly always willing to agree to anything Paul
proposed.
The two boys were not natives of Liege. However, they spent their
summers with relatives who lived in the country a few miles beyond the
limits of the famous old town, in the direction of the village of
Esneux. They themselves came from Brussels, and, while not themselves
related, were both cousins of the family which they were now visiting,
that of M. de Frenard.
So now, striking out with a good, swinging pace, they made their way
rapidly through the streets of the old town of Liege, narrow and
crooked, once they were beyond the great square.
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