There was something so wonderful, so weird that it was almost ghostly, about that ride in its beginning.  Behind them was the din of the heavy fighting between them and Gumbinnen.  The sky was streaked with the flashes of searchlights, and the vibration of the cannon beat against their ears incessantly.  Yet the road before them, as it lay like a white ribbon in the path of the great headlight, was absolutely empty.  They passed houses, went through villages.  And in none of the houses was there a light or a sign of life.  The whole countryside had been abandoned.

“It reminds me of things I’ve read about the plague in olden times,” thought Fred.  “People used to run away like that then, and leave a dead countryside behind them.  It would almost look more natural if there were signs of fighting.”

There were to be plenty all about here soon.  But that night there was nothing, save the inferno of noise and the dazzling points of light in the sky behind them, to suggest anything save the deepest peace.  Grain stood in some of the fields.  In others, where the harvesting had begun, there were reaping machines.  But despite the noise, there was a strange and unearthly silence.  Fred had driven at night through lonely country before, and he could remember the way dogs at almost every house had burst into furious barking as the car approached.  Now there were no dogs!  It was a trifling thing to think of now, but just then it seemed to Fred that the absence of the dogs meant even more than the dark, silent houses themselves.

The houses did look as if their owners might be asleep within, but the dogs would have barked their alarm.  And so that came to be the symbol of the flight of the people to him.

They had many miles to go.  After a couple of hours Fred changed seats with Boris, and for a time dozed, though he scarcely slept.  However, he did get a good rest, and when they came near to the stretch of road that Ivan had told them would mark the crisis of the trip, both boys were in good condition for the test.  They slowed down at the sound of an engine’s whistle, the first nearby noise that had come to their ears since they had left the parsonage.  It startled them tremendously at first, but then they remembered Ivan’s warning.

“There is one place where, for about four miles, the road runs very close to the railway,” he had said.  “The Germans will have patrols all along the railway line, but there is no reason why they should pay any attention to you.  Be watchful—­that is the vital thing.  And especially so when you begin to descend a long hill.  At the bottom of that hill the railway crosses your road, and that culvert will be watched with especial care.  After that you will find the way clear, for our nearest outposts should not be more than a mile or so beyond the railway there.  We would have seized the line before, except that until we had straightened our front in that quarter it would have been useless to do it.”