Gripping a torch suspended in a crevice between two fallen blocks of stone, he stepped towards a huge, jagged hole near the end of the hall, and held the flaming torch over it. Beneath there was a pit, with crumbling earth sides, and at the bottom a mass of shattered stonework and debris. Then, holding the torch overhead, he pointed upwards, and, glancing there, Henri saw a corresponding hole with jagged edges, through which the ponderous shells had entered. There, indeed, displayed at their feet, and just above them, was as fine an example as could well be discovered of the work of modern shells—of shells of huge calibre—projected by guns of such weight that weeks are required to move them, and filled with such a mass of high explosives that little can resist them. Indeed, let one of the huge projectiles sent by those German or Austrian howitzers hit fairly upon some building, and, be it a church—their favourite objective—a peasant's cottage, a convent, or even a mass of concrete and steel—such as, for instance, a modern fortress, such as, indeed, this fortress of Douaumont—and the result was likely to be little different. Destruction followed in the wake of those ponderous shells, and wreckage resulted. Here, then, before Henri and Jules, was displayed direct evidence of the wisdom which had caused General Joffre to dismantle every fort round the city of Verdun, and to convert the salient into an ordinary defensive position. A fortress might, and indeed would, be smashed by German artillery; but trenches were more movable, more replaceable, objects, and the picks and spades of poilus could easily repair damage.
"Nice little hole—eh?" smiled Jules. "But I don't see any sign of that German."
"Nor I. Let's get on. I've an uneasy feeling in my mind that he's up to some particularly vile sort of mischief. Let's push on," said Henri.
"And which way?"
"Which way? Any way! Straight ahead! The noise of rifles is getting closer, so that any way is likely to lead to the spot we're seeking."
"Then you think he has gone towards the fighting?" asked Jules.
"Yes!" came abruptly from Henri. "He's sneaking up behind our fellows, I feel sure. From what I've seen of this Max, this German, I feel positive that he'll think of escape last of all. To do him bare credit, he'll consider his own safety only when he's done his worst to our people. Let's push on! We've got to get to the beggar."
Glancing about them doubtfully for a second or two, they finally chose a central opening, only to be forced to turn back when they had progressed a dozen yards, for a fall of masonry blocked egress. Returning, therefore, to the hall, they skirted the edge of that giant pit the shell had burrowed through the flooring, and entered another gallery, where, attracted by loud shouts ahead and by heavy firing, they pushed on as fast as they were able.
Meanwhile; outside, the combat had for the moment subsided, for the dash of the 20th Corps of those gallant Bretons had taken them right up to the trenches hitherto held by that thin band of noble poilus who had sustained and held off the first German onslaught. The Bretons, indeed, were now repairing, in furious haste, and consolidating the trenches running along the edge of the plateau of Douaumont right up to the eastern corner of the fort, almost, in fact, surrounding the fortress and cutting it off from the Germans.
Yet a portion of the works projected beyond them to the east, and there an underground passage gave shelter to the Brandenburgers, and, indeed, allowed the enemy to reinforce their troops still holding a portion of the interior. Elsewhere there was little fighting; for on the Côte du Poivre and the Côte de Talou no German attack was possible, French guns on Mort Homme and Hill 304 still commanding every avenue of approach, and already having given the Germans practical, if dreadful, evidence of their deadly work. But along the whole line shells still plunged about the positions held by our allies, and, as the snowflakes whirled and the wind swept first from this quarter and then from another, the distant thud of cannon came in one low, continuous, muttering roar, which never stopped, and which for seven days now had gone on practically without intermission.