"Then we'll separate," Bill told him. "What d'you say to this, boys? That German officer and his men have seen us here in this ruined factory, and every shot they've fired has been put in in this particular direction. If shell-holes are good enough for Fritz, ain't they good enough for us too? Why not separate, though still forming a sort of circle? I'll stay up here and can call out to any one of you; then if bombs are thrown in, as Nobby says——"
"As you can see for yourself," said Nobby dryly, as a rifle sounded in the distance and a grenade flew over the wrecked factory and burst beyond it, "as you can see for yourself now, Bill."
"As I know," went on Bill, "then there's only one that's likely to be damaged."
"And that's you," said Larry.
"And who else?" Bill asked him curtly. "We've had all that before. You clear off, Larry, and you too, Jim. Boys, scatter in the same direction as you're lying in now. Slip off to the nearest shell-hole, get the best cover, and hold your fire till you know you've cause to use your rifles—we've got to keep the enemy out till night-fall."
And then what was to happen to this gallant and somewhat forlorn little party? Could they, having regard to all the circumstances in which they stood, really look forward to securing their liberty and to gaining the Allied line? Could they, when they remembered that between them and that line there stretched a host of Germans, and reflected also that at the moment they were surrounded—could they reasonably expect to make further progress? It was hardly possible, certainly not probable, though, fortunately for all the members of the little band commanded by Bill, such thoughts hardly crossed their minds, and there was no time for reflection. Even as they wriggled off from the ruined walls of the factory, sidling in behind layers of brick, dodging between battered and perforated boilers and so gaining shell-holes, enemy bullets came buzzing thicker than ever over the scene, while every minute or so a rifle grenade reached the ruins, and, bursting, filled the air with bits of iron, with fragments of stone and mortar, and threw up such a cloud of dust, in spite of recent wet weather, that life became more difficult.
"Still, we've got pretty good cover," Bill thought, as, perched in a niche he had selected, he hung to his post and watched carefully all round, every now and again raising his rifle and firing at a German figure. "If only it would get dark. But it won't, not for hours yet, and there's no mist—nothing to cover us. Hi, Larry!" he shouted; "they're bunching up in front of you and Nobby. Break 'em up, if you can!"
Nobby, with a cigarette hanging to the very corner of his mouth, grinned in Bill's direction and then at Larry. It was an extremely cool and methodical Nobby who then proceeded to pip, as he termed it, brother Fritz, his shots, together with Larry's equally well-aimed fire, soon dispersing the band of Germans approaching from the point directly in front of them. But there were other points from which the enemy were advancing also. Unpleasant little rushes were indulged in here and there, all of which served to bring the enemy still nearer, till, as the minutes grew to an hour, and that hour into two, the defenders were more closely surrounded, engirdled by an increasing number of Germans, whose offensive became increasingly insistent. Bombs, too, became more frequent, bursting amongst the ruins, and in course of time driving Bill and the defenders completely out of them.
"It's no go!" Nobby was at length forced to admit, smiling grimly and somewhat wryly at Bill.