Part 13 (2/2)
”All right--to the cellar!” cried Bob. ”And don't forget to take with us what food and water we can. Maybe we'll be held there some time.
If there's a big battle it may last several days, though if our boys drive back the Huns we'll take the opportunity to slip out and join our friends.”
”That's right,” agreed Jimmy. ”Just think, fellows, what's happening to us now may have happened to poor Maxwell. Maybe that's why he hasn't been heard from. If we don't come back they'll list us as missing, and no one will know whether we've run away, been killed or captured. So we'll have to suspend judgment on the man that's got our thousand dollars.”
”That's so,” agreed Franz. ”I never looked at it in just that way. We never thought this would happen to us, any more than I thought I'd be captured.”
They were gathering up such food as remained to them, and Bob was looking for something in which to carry some water to the cellar, when there came again that nerve-racking screech, followed by a roar and bang that seemed to knock the very bottom out of the world itself.
And this time the boys were conscious, for a brief instant at least, that the old mill was gone. It seemed to fall apart, to disintegrate, to crumble like some time-worn structure. And then all five of the lads lost consciousness and seemed to be slipping down into everlasting blackness, while all about them fell and rattled and banged stones, bricks, mortar-dust and dirt, mingled with cracked and splintered wood.
It was Iggy who first recovered his senses. Whether he was less shocked, or whether his nerves were in such a state from his recent experience as to make his unconsciousness of shorter duration, does not matter. The fact is he opened his eyes. And he was at once conscious that he was held down by the weight of much debris. It was on his legs and on his body, but his arms and head were free.
”Ach! Back again am I in de sh.e.l.l hole! It was a dream, yes, that I was taken out!” exclaimed the poor Polish lad. ”It a dream must of been! I shall sleep again!”
But as he was closing his eyes, for he really, as he said later, thought that he was back in the sh.e.l.l hole, he saw Jimmy, who was half buried near him, moving slightly.
”Oh, Jimmy Blazes! And dey kill you, too!” sighed Iggy. ”How sorry I am we both deat are alretty!”
”Who's dead?” asked Jimmy, in a faint voice. ”I'm not, anyhow, but blamed near it. Is that you, Iggy?”
”Yes, I it is. But I know not if I am deader or aliver.”
”Take my word for it--you're alive so far, though how long you'll be that way--or me, either--I can't say,” said Jimmy. ”What happened, anyhow?”
To Iggy's relief Jimmy managed to scramble out of the pile of dirt and stones that half buried him. And then, from another corner of what seemed to be the cellar, a third voice said:
”They sent over a proper sh.e.l.l, that time.” It was Franz.
”A _proper_ sh.e.l.l? Most _improper_, I call it!” came from Roger. ”It blew the mill to pieces!”
”And us along with it,” added Bob. ”Are we in the cellar?”
”Sub-cellar, bas.e.m.e.nt--anything you like to call it!” put in Jimmy.
”But is it possible that none of us is seriously hurt?”
He walked over a pile of masonry and beams. He saw Bob crawling out of a hole and Franz swinging himself down from what appeared to be a ledge. Roger picked himself up from a corner. Only Iggy seemed to be seriously hurt, but it was demonstrated, a few moments later, that he was not. For he scrambled out, scattering the dust in a cloud, and stood with his chums.
They were a sorry sight--covered with dust and streaks of blood, for the wounds they had bound up had opened again, and they had many fresh scratches and cuts.
”It's very evident what happened,” declared Jimmy. ”They must have dropped a sh.e.l.l on the roof, and it blew the mill right down into the ground, and us with it. We're in the cellar--or what was once the cellar.”
”And the next question is, how to get out,” added Bob.
”Hark!” exclaimed Jimmy, holding up a warning hand.
There was silence, broken by a faint, crackling noise.
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