"I hope it will be soon," said Billy. "I'm getting impatient."
"It won't be long if we can keep up the pace we set this morning," said Bart. "Gee, how our tanks went through those wires as though they were rotten cord."
"And our guns are keeping it up," said Frank. "Just listen to that roar. What a shame it is we can't be out there doing our bit. It makes me feel like a slacker."
"It's the fortune of war," said Billy philosophically. "But it's might hard luck just the same that we took the wrong direction after we cleared up that machine gun nest so neatly. But let's have a hack at that grub, fellows. Oh, boy, if we only had some of that stew we lost this morning!"
"That stew still sticks in Billy's crop," laughed Frank.
"I only wish it did," mourned Billy. "But it never got that far."
"Well, just remember, fellows, that we're on rations now," warned Frank as he doled out a little portion to each from the common stock they had pooled together. "We've got to make this last as long as we can. If we feel hungry when we get through we'll just have to tighten our belts and let it go at that."
They ate sparingly, but, although they were all thirsty, especially after the heat and excitement of the fighting, it was a long time before they could bring themselves to drink from the pool in the corner of the cellar. They finally had to come to it, however, though they tried to make it less repugnant by filtering it through the only clean handkerchief they could muster among them.
The time dragged on interminably in their narrow quarters. They tried to sleep, but though they were very tired after their strenuous day, the novelty and discomfort of their position kept them on edge.
The daylight finally vanished from the little opening in the floor above and the darkness became absolute. They had matches in their kits, but they feared to use them lest some prowling sentry might see the light through some rift in the masonry.