"Then they must be pretty close to it," said Bart in some apprehension.
"The gun they're shooting with is seventy miles away from the city," replied Frank.
"Quit your kidding," commanded Billy.
"Where do you get that stuff?" asked Bart incredulously.
"Cross my heart and hope to die," said Frank seriously. "Honestly, fellows, they've got a gun that shoots a shell seventy miles or more. The shell weighs two hundred pounds. It rises twenty miles in the air, and it takes three minutes on the trip to Paris."
"Is that straight goods?" asked Billy suspiciously.
"It sure is," Frank assured him. "I was reading about it in a Paris paper I got hold of this morning."
"What was it you were saying about yesterday being a good day for the Germans," asked Bart, when he had digested the facts.
"Oh, one of the shells hit a church where they were having a service and killed seventy-five people, mostly women and children," answered Frank. "Don't you imagine the Germans call that a good day? Can't you see them grinning and rubbing their hands? It's as good as bombing a hospital or an orphan asylum. The Kaiser felt so good about that he sent a special message of congratulation to the manager of the Krupp works, where the gun was made. Oh, yes, it was a good day!"
"The swine!" exclaimed Bart furiously, while Billy's fist clinched.