CHAPTER XVI
Entombed
"Ciel! What has hit you?" asked the Belgian corporal, regardingKenneth with evident alarm.
"I am all right," replied the lad; "but those Uhlans have captured myfriend--the English motor-cyclist I told you about."
"Get your rifles, comrades," ordered the corporal. "Louis, since youare wounded, remain at this loop-hole."
The lancer, struggling into his cartridge-belt, made his way to theobservation post; while Kenneth and the rest of the Belgians pushedback the trap-door and took cover on the ground floor of thepartly-demolished house. There was plenty of time, for the Uhlans wereproceeding at a leisurely pace.
"It is safe to fire," continued the corporal, having satisfied himselfon all sides that there were no other German troops within sight. "Iwill take the leading Bosche on the right; Gaston, the one by his sidewill make a broad mark, since you are not a first-class shot. You,Etienne, cover the Uhlans on the prisoner's left; and you, monsieur,try your luck on that fellow in the rear. The rest we must polish offwith the second round: none must escape, or we are undone. Now,monsieur, when I give the word, shout to your friend and tell him tofall to the ground. Even a hulking German will not stop a bullet, andI am sure your friend would not like a second-hand piece of lead."
Slowly the seconds seemed to pass. The Belgians, with their riflesresting on the broken brickwork and their fingers lightly touchingtheir sensitive triggers, were ready for their prey. Admirablyconcealed, they were still further favoured by the light, for thesetting sun shone full in the faces of the unsuspecting Uhlans.
"Now, monsieur!" hissed the corporal.
"Rollo!" shouted Kenneth. "Lie down!"
For once, at least, Rollo acted promptly. He threw himself on the roadso swiftly that the horse of the Uhlan behind him reared. The Germancorporal, although he could not understand what was said, suspected thetruth.
A word of command was on his lips, when he tumbled from the saddle witha bullet through his brain. Two more Germans shared the fate of theirnon-commissioned officer; but the fellow at whom Gaston had aimed cameoff lightly, with a neatly-drilled hole through his bridle-arm.
Two more, dismounting and taking cover behind their horses, attemptedto use their carbines; while the seventh, seized with a panic, wheeled,and galloped as hard as he could from the scene.
Again the Belgian rifles rang out. The fugitive horse stumbled andfell, throwing its rider with a sickening thud upon the hard road.From the semi-underground retreat the Belgian corporal's rifle flashed,and one of the dismounted Uhlans dropped, while his horse, wounded inthe neck by the same bullet that had killed his master, reared, andplunged upon Rollo as he lay upon the ground.
The other dismounted German, seeing the fate of his comrades, attemptedto remount, but he too fell, shot through the heart.
In the midst of the confusion the wounded Uhlan set spurs to his steedand, bending over the animal's neck, tore down the road.
"Drop him: if he gets away we are as good as done for!" shouted theBelgian corporal.
Shot after shot whistled after the fugitive. Once he was seen to givea spasmodic movement and then again to drop over the horse's neck.Still the terrified animal tore onwards, and at length was out of sight.
"Quel dommage!" ejaculated the corporal. "The rascal has got away."
"He'll drop. I'll swear that he was badly hit," said Etienne, theartilleryman.
"We are not to know that," grumbled the corporal; "at least, not atpresent. Quick, there! We must remove all traces of the affair, andtrust to luck that the fellow will be able to tell no tales."
Resting their rifles against the wall, Kenneth and his Belgian comradesran into the road. They found Rollo little the worse for hisexperiences, beyond a bruised ankle caused by a kick from thestruggling horse.
"Congratulations after. Work first," exclaimed the corporal."Together, comrades!"
The corpses of the Uhlans and their horses were dragged across thehighway and thrown into the broad ditch, where in the now gatheringtwilight they would escape observation, while dust was thrown upon thetraces of the encounter.
"Now to the cellar!" exclaimed the corporal. "Nevertheless, I willremain without for a time. I am not at all satisfied. The escape ofthat wounded Uhlan troubles me, so I will keep watch from without."
"He received his quietus, never fear," declared Gaston. "He will tellno tales."
"If your opinion is not more true than your aim--" began the corporalmeaningly. "But we must hope that it is so. All the same I will keepwatch."
The rest of his comrades regained their underground retreat, leavingthe trap-door open in order that the corporal could descend withoutdelay. Rollo was this time the centre of attraction, and the rescuedlad had to give a long and detailed account of his adventures in thehands of the Germans.
"Your foot is hurting you," observed Kenneth, noticing that Rollo waswincing towards the close of his narrative. "Take off your boot andlet me see what is wrong."
Examination showed that Rollo's leg was badly bruised from the ankle tothe knee; in addition there were slight abrasions.
"It's lucky you didn't get a direct kick from that horse," continuedKenneth. "I'll bring some water and bathe it. I'm sorry we haven'tany first-aid stuff with us."
With that Kenneth reascended the ladder, and made his way to a wellthat was situated about ten paces from where the back door of the houseused to be. It was now nearly dark. The Belgian keeping his solitaryvigil was hardly visible in the gloom.
The lad raised the heavy iron bucket, emptied about half the contentsaway, and was about to return to the cellar when the corporal grippedhim by the shoulders.
"Regardez bien!" he whispered, pointing along the road that led toCortenaeken.
"German cavalry!" exclaimed Kenneth.
"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' nestabout our ears. To the cellar! We cannot fight, we must hide andtrust to luck."
Quickly the cellar-flap was shut, and in total darkness the six menwaited 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 droppedfrom the arched roof of their underground retreat. The Belgianschuckled.
"Let the rascals waste their shells," declared Etienne. "They willwant them badly before the war is over."
"Did you bring the water?" asked Rollo.
"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 thansitting on the cold stones."
Carefully and deliberately Kenneth bathed his chum's injured leg, whilewithout the deafening crashes continued at rapid intervals.
"There can't be much of the house left," observed Rollo. "It wasn'tmuch of a show when I first saw it. By the by, where is your bike?"
"Under some damp straw in an outhouse. It ought to be well out of thebursting area of those shells. At any rate----"
A vivid flash of light filled the cellar. There was a terrific roar,followed by an avalanche of bricks and stones. Kenneth, who waskneeling by his chum, was thrown violently against Rollo, and the two,deafened by the concussion, found themselves gasping for breath amidthe sulphurous fumes that wafted around them.
A shell, crashing through the cellar-flap, had burst in the undergroundrefuge. The luckless Belgians were literally blown to atoms. Kennethand Rollo had escaped almost by a miracle, only to be confronted by anew danger. They were buried alive, and in peril of suffocation fromthe noxious gases of the burst projectile.
Kenneth staggered to his feet. His head came in contact with animmense slab of stone. He stretched out his arms, to find that hishands touched a shaking mass of brickwork on both sides.
"We're trapped!" he whispered. "If those brutes fire again, the restof the cellar will cave in on top of us I wonder how the other fellowsgot on."
He called the Belgians by name, at first softly, then gradually raisinghis voice, but no reply came through the intervening barrier of debris.
The firing had now ceased. The last shell--the most destructive ofall--had reduced the farm-house to a heap of ruins. Above ground,hardly one brick or stone adhered to another, while beneath the moundof ruins the two British lads were entombed, and apparently doomed to alingering death.
The Dispatch-Riders: The Adventures of Two British Motor-cyclists in the Great War Page 16