A second, several of them, slipped away.
Then there came 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: