"Guess they're all out of ammunition," conjectured Frank, when at last quiet reigned.
"Either that or our aviators have driven them off as they did this afternoon," returned Bart.
"Let's go back to the mill," Tom suggested. "There'll be plenty of ventilation in the old crib to-night."
"And my cot's right beneath that hole in the roof," grumbled Bart.
"Safest place in the whole shebang," comforted Frank. "Lightning never strikes twice in the same spot."
"Yes, but suppose it rains," grouched Bart.
"Aw, it's good for the complexion," grinned Tom. "Anyway, you're soaked through now, aren't you? Some fellows are never satisfied."
"Ah, stop fighting!" said Frank. "It couldn't rain if it wanted to with a moon like that."
Once back in the mill, the army boys set about repairing the havoc wrought by the bomb.
Billy picked up the banjo, patted it lovingly and was relieved to find that his favorite instrument had come through the German attack uninjured.