“Then what do you, advise, Blazes!” asked Roger.

“That we see if there’s a chance of getting down in the cellar and staying there.  Some of these old mills had very thick foundation walls.  I don’t know just how long this one will stand up if many more such shells as the first one came over, but we can try it.  In fact, it seems to be our only chance.”

“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 shell 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 shell 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.”