The Dispatch Riders Part 22

"Oh, shut up!" exclaimed his companion. "It's bad enough without rubbing it in."

"I wasn't."

"Yes, you were; but, I say, don't let us start quarrelling. The question is----"

"Hist!" whispered Kenneth. "I hear voices."

The lad was right. Almost above their heads heavy boots were stumbling over the debris, while the m.u.f.fled sounds of guttural voices were borne to the ears of the two prisoners. The Germans were searching the ruins.

"I vote we shout. They'll dig us out," suggested Kenneth.

"I vote we don't," objected Rollo st.u.r.dily. "See, the gleam of a lantern is showing through a crack or a hole in the brickwork, so it can't be so very thick. We may be able to tunnel our way out when they clear off. If we gave ourselves up, ten to one they would shoot us for giving them all this trouble."

It was that small glimmer of light that raised their hopes, without which they would, through sheer panic, have called frantically to their foes for aid, without considering the consequences.

For perhaps an hour the Germans continued their search, until, discovering the pa.s.sage of the final and fatal sh.e.l.l, they removed sufficient of the debris to enable them to descend to the cellar. The entombment of the two lads now proved to be a blessing in disguise, for, screened from observation by the mound of rubble, their retreat was unsuspected by the searchers.

Having found sufficient evidence to satisfy themselves that the Belgians who had ambushed the Uhlan patrol were themselves slain, the Germans concluded their investigations and went away.

For another long period the lads remained silent, until they felt convinced that once more they were free from the unwelcome attentions of the German troops. Then Rollo broke the silence.

"I'm jolly thirsty," he remarked.

"So am I," declared Kenneth. "There's some water in the bucket. We needn't be too particular. I dipped my handkerchief in it, but it was fairly clean."

"I'm ready to mop water out of a ditch," said Rollo.

Kenneth groped for the bucket. It was within six inches of his foot and standing upright, but it was empty. A fragment of sh.e.l.l had torn a hole through it close to the bottom. Not a drop of liquid was left.

"We've had a jolly narrow squeak," said Kenneth. "After that it would be hard lines if we were knocked out in the last lap. I don't think we shall be. Suppose we start tunnelling."

"Steady on, old man! We ought to wait till it gets light. Then we will be able to see what we are doing," expostulated his companion.

"I can feel."

"Yes, perhaps; but by dislodging part of the rubble you may cause a sort of landslide and bury us completely. I vote we exercise just a little more patience."

They had been conversing in whispers, lest the sound of their voices might be heard by a sentry, for it was quite possible that the Germans might think they had not accounted for the whole garrison of the ruined farmhouse. They had good reason to believe that the British dispatch-rider had taken refuge there; the only chance was that they might have come to the conclusion that Rollo was one of the unrecognizable victims of the deadly sh.e.l.l.

Slowly the hours of darkness pa.s.sed, the silence broken only at intervals by the dull grinding of the subsiding debris and by a desultory, whispered conversation between the lads. Then Kenneth became aware that he could indistinctly discern his companion's face The long-hoped-for dawn had come at last.

In another half-hour it was light enough to form a fairly accurate idea of the state of affairs. The prisoners were in a triangular-shaped s.p.a.ce, two sides consisting of the adjoining walls of the cellar. The third was composed of a bank of broken bricks and stones, diminis.h.i.+ng in thickness as it grew in height. Overhead a part of the vaulted roof had fallen, but the brickwork remained cemented together, forming a s.h.i.+eld from the rubble above it. But for this ma.s.s of brickwork the lads would have been crushed to death by the immense weight of the ruined walls of the farm-house.

Between the topmost bricks and the overhead protection quite a strong light penetrated into the cavity where they crouched. The early morning sun was s.h.i.+ning directly upon the heap of debris.

"I think we can s.h.i.+ft this stuff," remarked Kenneth, cautiously feeling a loose brickbat.

"All right, carry on," replied Rollo. "Only be careful to test each piece of rubble before you remove it. If we cannot make a hole through in that direction we must try cutting through the existing wall. It will be a tough job, but you have your knife."

"I hope we won't have to do that. The cement is as hard as iron. It would take us a week. Let's hope for the best."

Proceeding very cautiously, Kenneth removed enough of the debris to disclose an opening sufficiently large to thrust his head through.

Upon attempting to enlarge the hole the ma.s.s began to slide; the overhead slab of brickwork rumbled.

"Steady on!" cautioned Rollo in alarm. "The whole show's caving in."

"It won't any more," declared Kenneth after a brief investigation.

"See that wedge-shaped brick? It's acting as a keystone of an arch.

All we have to do is to remove the rubbish from the lower part of the hole and squeeze out sideways."

In another half-hour the gap through the mound of rubble was enlarged to roughly eighteen inches wide and two feet in height. To all appearances the danger of further subsidence was past.

"I'll go first, old man," said Kenneth. "Then, if I get through all right, I can give you a hand. Think you'll manage it with that leg of yours?"

"I hardly feel it," replied Rollo, which was indeed no exaggeration.

Keeping fairly still in that confined s.p.a.ce, he had not tried the injured ankle. But, almost as soon as he made the declaration, he became aware of a throbbing pain from his hip downwards. In spite of Kenneth's attention to the sprained ankle on the previous night, the limb had swollen to an alarming extent.

Rollo made no mention of this to his comrade. He shut his jaw tightly and endured the pain.

With the utmost caution Kenneth began to wriggle through the narrow tunnel, using one outstretched arm to pull himself over the rough brickwork. The other arm he had to keep close to his side, and even thus it was a tight squeeze. Before his head emerged from the opening he stuck--and stuck fast. He felt as if he were suffocating; he was a.s.sailed by the horrible dread that the rubble was slowly yet surely subsiding. He wanted to struggle madly and desperately; to shout for aid. He was momentarily panic-stricken.

Controlling himself by a strong effort, Kenneth ceased to waste his strength in a useless attempt to drag himself from that horrible pa.s.sage. With the sweat pouring from him he kept quiet, filling his lungs with the cool morning air from without.

"What have you stopped for?" asked Rollo anxiously.

"Can't help it," was the m.u.f.fled reply. "Give my legs a shove, old man."

This Rollo did effectively by applying his back to the soles of his companion's feet. Keeping absolutely rigid, Kenneth found himself being pushed slowly yet gradually towards freedom. His head emerged--then his shoulders. He could now draw up his left arm and a.s.sist in the nerve-racking operation. Wellnigh breathless, bruised and sc.r.a.ped, covered with dirt and dust, and with his clothing rent in several places, he gained the open air.

Kenneth had already had sufficient military experience to learn the value of concealment. Without attempting to stand he made a careful survey of his surroundings. He was in a bowl-like depression enclosed on all sides by irregular hummocks of pulverized brickwork, tiles, and charred timbers.

With a sigh of relief the lad realized that there were no Germans in sight. The attacking party had not thought fit to leave a picket in charge of the ruins of the farm-house. To all appearances the two comrades were the only living persons for miles around.

"I'll get the rope from the well and give you a pull out," announced Kenneth upon returning to the mouth of the tunnel. "It will be a fairly easy job."

"Don't be long, then," said Rollo anxiously.

"I won't," replied the lad encouragingly, and without further delay he hastened towards the well. It was no longer there. Only a deep cavity partly filled with rubbish marked its site. A sh.e.l.l had exploded close to it, causing the walls to cave in, and throwing out enough earth to leave a pit three yards in diameter. The windla.s.s and the rope had vanished utterly.

"That's done it!" exclaimed Kenneth; then a brilliant idea flas.h.i.+ng across his mind, he bent his back and ran across to the partly-demolished outhouse where he had hidden his motor-cycle.

With a shout of satisfaction he found the machine exactly as he had left it. The Germans had visited the adjoining shed, for several bundles of fresh straw had been removed. Wisps of straw were scattered on the ground, but the rotten material which Kenneth had thrown over his mount had been considered unworthy of the spoilers' attention.

Deftly Kenneth removed the belt from the cycle and doubled back to the tunnel.

"You've been a time!" exclaimed Rollo with evident relief. "I thought you'd tumbled into the well or had been collared by the enemy."

"Neither, thanks, old man. The well's gone to blazes and the rope as well, but this belt will answer our purpose. Hang on with both hands, turn over on your side, sprained foot uppermost, and say when you're ready."