Skirmishes between isolated forces of the two armies, some of which reached the proportions of real battles, had taken place, and upon the southern border some slight success already had crowned the efforts of the Italian troops.

The Italian fleet had been set in motion; giant battleships and other vessels of war had joined other craft of the quadruple entente in an effective blockade of Austrian ports in the Adriatic; and the Austrians were keeping well behind the shelter of their own mines.

In one or two cases they had ventured forth to give battle, but each expedition of this nature had resulted disastrously—­at the bottom of the sea.  Apparently, now, they had given up attempts to run the blockade and were content to lie snug in their well-fortified harbors, even as their German allies were doing in their ports.

Several Austrian aircraft had left their bases and flown over Genoa, dropping bombs, killing and wounding a score of non-combatants, but doing little damage to fortified positions or to munition plants and provision camps, which were presumed to be their goal.  Also several had been brought to earth by the accurate fire from the anti-air craft guns of the Italians.

Unlike England, France, Russia and Belgium, Italy entered the war prepared.  She was not taken by surprise, as had been her allies.  She went into the war with her eyes open and a full realization of her responsibilities.  Also mobilization had been completed before she had finally decided to take the plunge into the maelstrom.  Again, she was better prepared than her allies for the reason that she had recently emerged from a successful struggle against the Turks in Tripoli and her army was an army of veterans.

There was no doubt that Italy would be the first to take the offensive.  The question was, where would she strike?  It was an established fact that she would not await the attacks of the Austrians, but where would she deliver her first blow?  Would it be by sea, hurling her fleet upon the enemy’s base across the Adriatic?  Would it be across the southern boundary of Austria, or would it be farther north—­through the Alps?

There was little to choose between the latter methods; but the first was given little thought.  It was well known that the Austrians had mined the Adriatic thoroughly near their ports, and to attempt an expedition there threatened destruction for the attackers.

An advance through the Alps also presented its difficulties.  In spite of the fact that the weather was still warm, it was anything but warm in the mountain fastnesses.  True, a passage of the Alps had been forced before now—­one by the Carthaginian General Hannibal in the middle ages, and again by Napoleon.  But it was still a desperate undertaking.

The world waited to see.

Chester Crawford, still in the hands of his captors, took no thought of these things now.  His one absorbing thought at the moment was of hitting upon some plan whereby he could elude his guards and make his escape.  At the same time, he realized that he had a hard problem before him; for now that he had almost made his get-away twice, he knew he would be guarded with more vigilance than before.  Still, he determined to bide his time and take advantage of the first opportunity that presented itself.