The Way Out
For nearly a quarter of an hour, though it seemed like a long-drawn
night, Kenneth and Rollo remained silent. Gradually the air became
purer as the fumes escaped through the crevices in the brickwork. It
was the darkness they dreaded most--a darkness that could almost be
felt. It seemed to have weight, to press upon their eyes.
"I wish I had a match," whispered Kenneth.
Rollo felt in his pockets. It was, as he expected, a vain quest, for
when in the hands of the Germans he had been rigorously searched, and
every article in his possession had been confiscated.
"This is the limit," said Kenneth dolorously. "I'd much rather be shot
in action. Here we may be snuffed out and no one will be a bit the
wiser. We may not be found for years, perhaps never."
"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 muffled 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 sturdily. "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 passage of the final and fatal shell, 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 shell 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 shell.
Slowly the hours of darkness passed, 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
space, two sides consisting of the adjoining walls of the cellar. The
third was composed of a bank of broken bricks and stones, diminishing
in thickness as it grew in height. Overhead a part of the vaulted roof
had fallen, but the brickwork remained cemented together, forming a
shield from the rubble above it. But for this mass 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 shining directly upon the heap of debris.
"I think we can shift 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 mass 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 space, 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
assailed 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
passage. 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 muffled 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
assist in the nerve-racking operation. Wellnigh breathless, bruised
and scraped, 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 shell 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 windlass and the rope had
vanished utterly.
"That's done it!" exclaimed Kenneth; then a brilliant idea flashing
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."
Upon receiving the signal Kenneth began to haul. To his great surprise
Rollo was pulled through the narrow opening with very little
difficulty. Once more they were free; but they were not yet out of the
wood. Between them and the Belgian army lay the lines of a vigilant
and wary foe.