supposed was the wholly abandoned railway, but there, sure
enough, was a train rattling along at a good rate. I could make out
soldiers with guns sitting upon the tender, and presumed that they
were with these instruments directing the operations of some
Belgian engineer and fireman. In a moment more I saw I was
mistaken, for at the throttle was a uniformed soldier, and another
comrade in his gray-green costume was shoveling coal into the
furnace. One of the guards, seeing me plodding on, smilingly
beckoned to me to jump aboard. When I took the cue and made a
move in that direction he winked his eye and significantly tapped
upon the barrel of his gun. The train was loaded with iron rails and
timbers, and I speculated as to their use, but farther down the line I
saw hundreds of men unloading these, making a great noise as
they flung them down the river bank to the water's edge. They
were destined for a big pontoon bridge which these men were, with
thousands of soldiers, throwing across the stream. Ceaselessly
the din and clangor of hammerings rang out over the river. My way
now wound through what was, to all purposes, one German camp,
strung for miles along the Meuse. The soldiers were busy with
domestic duties. Everywhere there was the cheer and rhythm of
well-ordered industry in the open air. In one place thousands of
loaves of black bread were being shifted from wagon to wagon. In
another they were piling a yard high with mountains of grain. The
air was full of the drone of a great mill, humming away at full
speed, while the Belgian fields were yielding up their golden
harvests to the invaders. Apples in great clusters hung down
around the necks of horses tethered in the orchards. With their
keepers they were enjoying a respite from their hard fatiguing
exertions.