Nor were there automobiles to be had.

Such automobiles as were not hidden had been confiscated by one side or the other.
Moreover, our journey was a constant succession of stops and starts.
Now we would be delayed for half an hour while some German officer examined the passes we carried, he meantime eying us with his suspicious squinted eyes.

Now again we would halt to listen to some native's story of battle or reprisal on ahead.

And always there was the everlasting dim reverberation of the distant guns to draw us forward.

And always, too, there was the difficulty of securing means of transportation.
It was on Sunday afternoon, August twenty-third, when we left Brussels, intending to ride to Waterloo.