“And you think the enemy cannot capture Dunkirk?” inquired Jones.

“Dunkirk!  The Germans capture Dunkirk?  It is impossible.”

“Why impossible?”

“Dunkirk is fortified; it is the entrance to Calais, to Dover and London.  Look you, m’sieur; we cannot afford to lose this place.  We cannot afford to lose even Nieuport, which is our last stand on Belgian soil.  Therefore, the Germans cannot take it, for there are still too many of us to kill before Kitchener comes to save us.”  He spoke thoughtfully, between puffs of his cigarette, and added:  “But of course, if the great English army does not come, and they kill us all, then it will not matter in the least what becomes of our country.”

Maurie’s assertion did not wholly reassure them.  The little Belgian was too bombastic to win their confidence in his judgment.  Yet Jones declared that Maurie doubtless knew the country better than anyone they had yet met and the doctor likewise defended his patient.  Indeed, Gys seemed to have taken quite a fancy to the little man and long after the others had retired for the night he sat on deck talking with the Belgian and getting his views of the war.

“You say you had land at Ghent?” he once asked.

“It is true, Doctor.”

“But afterward you said Brussels.”

Maurie was not at all confused.

“Ah; I may have done so.  You see, I traded my property.”

“And, if I am not mistaken, you spoke of a home at Liege.”

Maurie looked at him reproachfully.

“Is there not much land in Belgium?” he demanded; “and is a rich man confined to one home?  Liege was my summer home; in the winter I removed to Antwerp.”

“You said Ghent.”

“Ghent it was, Doctor.  Misfortune has dulled my brain.  I am not the man I was,” he added with a sigh.

“Nevertheless,” said Gys, “you still possess the qualities of a good waiter.  Whatever happens here, Maurie, you can always go back to America.”

CHAPTER VII

ON THE FIRING LINE

Next morning they were all wakened at an early hour by the roar of artillery, dimly heard in the distance.  The party aboard the Arabella quickly assembled on deck, where little Maurie was found leaning over the rail.

“They’re at it,” he remarked, wagging his head.  “The Germans are at Nieuport, now, and some of them are over against Pervyse.  I hear sounds from Dixmude, too; the rattle of machine guns.  It will be a grand battle, this!  I wonder if our Albert is there.”

“Who is he?” asked Patsy.

“The king.  They told me yesterday he had escaped.”

“We must get the ambulances out at once,” said Beth.

“I’ll attend to that,” replied Uncle John, partaking of the general excitement.  “Warp up to the dock, Captain Carg, and I’ll get some of those men to help us swing the cars over the side.”