NY AND THE EELS
IX. OFF FOR ANTWERP
X. ON THE TOW-PATH
XI. THE ATTACK
XII. THE ZEPPELIN RAID
XIV. THE MOST WONDERFUL PART
THE BELGIAN TWINS
It was late in the afternoon of a long summer's day in Belgium. Father Van Hove was still at work in the harvest-field, though the sun hung so low in the west that his shadow, stretching far across the level, green plain, reached almost to the little red- roofed house on the edge of the village which was its home. Another shadow, not so long, and quite a little broader, stretched itself beside his, for Mother Van Hove was also in the field, helping her husband to load the golden sheaves upon an old blue farm-cart which stood near by.
Them were also two short, fat shadows which bobbed briskly about over the green meadow as their owners danced among the wheat- sheaves or carried handfuls of fresh grass to Pier, the, patient white farm-horse, hitched to the cart. These gay shadows belon
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