rt of sandbags
the grey-painted 77 mm. showed its square shield, and a crew of five men
were busy about it.

Somewhere above them in the bell chamber another and a lighter gun was
in full blast, and Dennis made a quick sign to Harry Hawke.

The crack shot of No. 2 Platoon raised his rifle, and the sergeant on
the seat behind the gun-shield reeled round and dropped, Hawke's second
bullet sending the man who was feeding the breech two feet into the air.

"Charge, boys, charge!" shouted Dennis. And before the three Germans who
remained realised what was happening, there was an ugly bit of
bayonet work, and the gun was silenced!

[Illustration: "Before the Germans realised what was happening, there
was an ugly bit of bayonet work"]

Then Tiddler jumped back with a shout, as the head and shoulders of
another German appeared like a Jack-in-the-box from a hole in the floor
of the church.

From the box he carried in his arms it was evident that the ammunition
supply was stored below; and as the man fell backwards from Tiddler's
bayonet with a scream of agony, an answering shout came up from the
depths beneath.

"Bombs, quick!" cried Tiddler. But Dennis seized Hawke's arms as he
already drew a deadly missile from his bag.

"Do you want to blow us all to smithereens?" shouted his officer. "Close
the trap, and haul the gun over it. That will keep them quiet down there
until we want them." And everyone lending a hand, as the trap-door shut
down with a dull boom, they dragged the gun back until the end of the
trail rested upon the covering and effectually secured it.

"Now for those chaps up there," said Dennis, with a thrill of
exultation. And they bolted for a little door in the thickness of the
tower wall.

A man named Rogerson was the first to enter, and he went pounding up the
winding stone steps in his heavy hobnailed boots, followed by Tiddler,
Dennis having to content himself with third place.

But their shout, the two rifle shots, and the sudden lull in the firing
of the 77 mm. had not been lost upon those above. The boarded floor of
the bell chamber was full of cracks and fissures, and through one of
them a sharp voice cried in German: "What's going on down there?"

"Wait and see!" retorted Dennis at random; and his men laughed at the
familiar catchword.

There was a great stamping of feet overhead, and Harry Hawke, who
chanced to be the last to reach the little door, cast his eyes upward as
he was about t