Uncle John and Ajo decided to go ashore for the latest news and arrived
in the city between nine and ten o'clock that same evening. They found
Calais in a state of intense excitement. The streets were filled with
British and French soldiery, with whom were mingled groups of citizens,
all eagerly discussing the war and casting uneasy glances at the black
sky overhead for signs of the dreaded German Zeppelins.

"How about Antwerp?" Jones asked an Englishman they found in the lobby
of one of the overcrowded hotels.

The man turned to stare at him; he looked his questioner up and down
with such insolence that the boy's fists involuntarily doubled; then he
turned his back and walked away. A bystander laughed with amusement. He
also was an Englishman, but wore the uniform of a subaltern.

"What can you expect, without a formal introduction?" he asked young
Jones. "But I'll answer your question, sir; Antwerp is doomed."

"Oh; do you really think so?" inquired Uncle John uneasily.

"It's a certainty, although I hate to admit it. We at the rear are not
very well posted on what is taking place over in Belgium, but it's said
the bombardment of Antwerp began yesterday and it's impossible for the
place to hold out for long. Perhaps even now the city has fallen under
the terrific bombardment."

There was something thrilling in the suggestion.

"And then?" asked Jones, almost breathlessly.