an upheaval below, followed by a succession of similar
explosions that must have shaken the very earth. A dense cloud of smoke
arose. Morgan now had his glasses fixed on the spot where all this
furious hurricane of fire had fallen.

He did not shout, but continued to stare. The wind drifted the pall of
smoke aside, and even Jack with unaided eye could determine that a
marvelous change had taken place down there since last he looked.

"Let me have the glasses, Morgan!" he cried, unable to believe his eyes
and wishing further confirmation.

Still silent as though awed, the observer obeyed. Jack knew from the
look on the other's face about what he might expect to see even before
he could raise the binoculars to his own eyes.

Then he too held his breath in very astonishment.

Never could there have been made a finer calculation than the one that
sent such an avalanche of shells hurtling through several miles of
space, to land exactly on a marked spot. In a thousand times the same
result might not have been secured again.

Jack saw desolation down there. For a space of a hundred feet, he
judged, earth and rocks and camouflage material had been thrown in every
direction by the falling shells, a dozen or more in number and of the
most destructive character known. A vast gaping hole told where the nest
had been.

Not a single man of all those waiting Boche gunners could have escaped
destruction. Jack could see the bodies of several hanging from the
neighboring trees, from which in turn most of their branches had been
stripped.

He turned an awe-stricken face to Morgan as he cried out:

"Send them the hold-up signal, Morgan, to tell them they've knocked the
nest to flinders and that there's no need of wasting another shot on
it!"

CHAPTER VIII

IN THE RED TRIANGLE HUT

NIGHT had come again. The work of the day was over, and weary khaki-clad
fighters could rest For they must be fit for the duties of the
succeeding day, which, like all recent ones, would bring its new
dangers, glories, and no doubt pain and death for untold numbers of
their fellows.

Still, in the camps where they were gathered that night, it would have
been hard to run across a single soldier who showed a sign of
discouragement or concern. Already they bore themselves with the mien of
veterans, ready to joke and laugh, and swarming to the Red Triangle huts
for a breath of entertainment, a glimpse of a rosy cheeked "home girl"
in the mi