Freeing himself from the dead weight of his chum, he dashed across the hall, feeling giddy and shaken by the explosion, and, scrambling on hands and knees amongst the bodies lying around the spot where the fire had been burning, he soon secured a water-bottle, and, hastening back, first dashed some of the contents into Henri's face, and then lifted the metal cup to his lips and let him drain it.
"Wanted that—eh?" he asked, having himself gulped down a draught. "Let's have another. Now, here we are! My word, what a bust-up! How did it happen? I saw you over there, just outside the hall, and wondered whether you'd do anything. You did—eh? Was that your bomb? Tell me about it."
Henri scoffed at him—scoffed angrily.
"Let's take a seat in the very centre, search for food, and sit down to a leisurely dinner," he said, his voice choked with satire. "Better still, let's ring a bell, if there's one, and ask that Max individual to come in and join us; he'd enjoy it, wouldn't he?"
"The demon! He'd have shot me in another minute. But still, here we are!"
"And the sooner we get out of it the better. That water's made me feel far better, and I can stand now, I believe. Yes, giddy a bit, but I can still stick to my pins, and that's something. What do we do—eh? Here, pull off the uniforms of a couple of these fellows, they'll not miss them, and let's change clothes as quickly as we can. Don't forget, too, that once we've changed we are Germans—Brandenburgers, 6th Brigade fellows, who've attacked the fort and helped to capture it. No more French after we've got into our disguises."
The suggestion came glibly enough, and sounded extremely simple; yet when the two—shaken after that terrific fight on the stairway, and once again by the explosion which Henri had manoeuvred—came to attempt the task they found it almost beyond them, for your German, as a general rule, is of no mean stature. Even in days when rations may be reduced owing to the British blockade, which holds up supplies destined for the German Empire, German recruits are still plump and fat, and Brandenburgers not less so than their fellows. Thus the task of turning dead men over and filching their garments, hard enough in any case, was made more difficult in the darkness, particularly so for young fellows such as Jules and Henri, who were not stoutly built like the Germans.
"Slip on any sort of an old coat and helmet at first," Henri advised, "then if that Max comes back we can push our way in amongst the bodies of the fallen, and he'll be none the wiser. Later, when we have the opportunity, we can make a more leisurely search, and perhaps we shall be lucky in finding garments that fit us."
It was a fortunate thing, indeed, that they decided on such a plan. For as they went about the hall, stooping over the bodies of the fallen, endeavouring to select and discover clothes likely to suit their own stature, a loud order was heard from behind the battered end of the hall, and presently some twenty men inarched in, the short and snappy officer leading them.
"Pull out the fellows who are still alive, or not too seriously injured," he commanded. "Leave the dead till later on. Now hurry!"