"They sent over a proper shell, that time." It was Franz.

"A _proper_ shell? Most _improper_, I call it!" came from Roger. "It
blew the mill to pieces!"

"And us along with it," added Bob. "Are we in the cellar?"

"Sub-cellar, basement--anything you like to call it!" put in Jimmy.
"But is it possible that none of us is seriously hurt?"

He walked over a pile of masonry and beams. He saw Bob crawling out
of a hole and Franz swinging himself down from what appeared to be a
ledge. Roger picked himself up from a corner. Only Iggy seemed to be
seriously hurt, but it was demonstrated, a few moments later, that
he was not. For he scrambled out, scattering the dust in a cloud, and
stood with his chums.

They were a sorry sight--covered with dust and streaks of blood, for
the wounds they had bound up had opened again, and they had many fresh
scratches and cuts.

"It's very evident what happened," declared Jimmy. "They must have
dropped a shell on the roof, and it blew the mill right down into
the ground, and us with it. We're in the cellar--or what was once the
cellar."

"And the next question is, how to get out," added Bob.

"Hark!" exclaimed Jimmy, holding up a warning hand.

There was silence, broken by a faint, crackling noise.

"Do you think you hear the German guns, or ours!" cried Bob.

"Neither one," said Jimmy, and there was a curious note in his voice.
"What I hear--and what you'll all hear, soon--is the crackling of
flames. The old mill--or what's left of it, boys--is on fire!"

"Then let's get out!" yelled Roger.

Jimmy looked about him, without moving. Above them there seemed to be
a solid mass of torn beams and jumbled masonry. On either side there
were stone walls--cracked walls, it is true, but, nevertheless, too
solid to admit the passage of the Khaki Boys. And only on one side
was there an opening, but this was so choked with debris as to make
it seemingly impossible to make egress that way. And, as the young
soldiers stood there, trapped under the collapsed mill, the sound of
the crackling flames became more plain. They could smell, now, the
smoke of burning wood.

"We've got to get out! We've got to get out!" yelled Bob.

He rushed to a place where, through a crisscross of beams and planks,
he could see daylight. Yet, though there were openings, none of them
was large enough to permit the passage of the smallest of the five
Brothers. And the wooden beams and planks were all of extraordina