"If your opinion is not more true than your aim--" began the corporal meaningly. "But we must hope that it is so. All the same I will keep watch."
The rest of his comrades regained their underground retreat, leaving the trap-door open in order that the corporal could descend without delay. Rollo was this time the centre of attraction, and the rescued lad had to give a long and detailed account of his adventures in the hands of the Germans.
"Your foot is hurting you," observed Kenneth, noticing that Rollo was wincing towards the close of his narrative. "Take off your boot and let me see what is wrong."
Examination showed that Rollo's leg was badly bruised from the ankle to the knee; in addition there were slight abrasions.
"It's lucky you didn't get a direct kick from that horse," continued Kenneth. "I'll bring some water and bathe it. I'm sorry we haven't any first-aid stuff with us."
With that Kenneth reascended the ladder, and made his way to a well that was situated about ten paces from where the back door of the house used to be. It was now nearly dark. The Belgian keeping his solitary vigil was hardly visible in the gloom.
The lad raised the heavy iron bucket, emptied about half the contents away, and was about to return to the cellar when the corporal gripped him by the shoulders.
"Regardez bien!" he whispered, pointing along the road that led to Cortenaeken.
"Would that it were!" said the Belgian. "Then we might see some fun. They are artillery. Ten thousand plagues on the clumsiness of Gaston! By missing that fellow, he allowed him to bring this hornets' nest about our ears. To the cellar! We cannot fight, we must hide and trust to luck."
Quickly the cellar-flap was shut, and in total darkness the six men waited for the opening of the German guns.
An appalling crash, followed by the rumbling of fallen bricks, announced that the first shell had hit the building. Mortar dropped from the arched roof of their underground retreat. The Belgians chuckled.
"Let the rascals waste their shells," declared Étienne. "They will want them badly before the war is over."
"Rather! I am not such an ass as to forget about you, old man," replied Kenneth. "Can you limp as far as the end of the cellar? There's a bench or something of the kind. It will be better than sitting on the cold stones."