They reached the place and squeezed themselves in through a narrow opening on a side that had faced a tiny yard bordered by a wall about eight feet in height.
There had been three rooms on the ground floor of the house, but all three had been knocked into one by the visitation of shells. The boys picked their way over the uneven masses of plaster, and Frank gave an exclamation as he perceived an opening that seemed to lead down into a cellar.
"This way, fellows," he said as he looked down into the darkness. "I don't see any stairs here but we can take a chance and drop. It doesn't seem very deep. One of you hold this gun of mine and I'll go first."
There was a chance of spraining an ankle if nothing worse, but luckily he landed safely.
"All serene," he called up in a low tone. "Hand me down your guns and then come along."
They did so, and the four found themselves in a cluttered cellar that by feeling around with their hands they found to be about thirty feet long by twenty in width. There was a furnace which had been broken into a pile of junk and a little light filtering down showed where a pipe had formerly gone through to the upper floor. There were a number of barrels in one corner, but apart from these the cellar seemed to hold nothing but rubbish.
"It's as dark as Egypt down here," grumbled Tom.
"So much the better," replied Bart. "There'll be that much less chance of a Heinie seeing us if he takes the trouble to look down here."
"So this is where we've got to hang out until our boys get here," remarked Billy, grinning. "It reminds me of the Waldorf-Astoria—it's so different."
"Never mind," said Frank cheerfully, "it's a thousand per cent. better than a Hun prison camp, and don't you forget it!"