“There’s a fine picnic now, I’m thinking,” grinned Stanley, “and—Great Scott!”
An explosion louder than any of the preceding ones sounded. A choking dust filled the air. It drifted in through the window.
“Great Dewey! they’re shelling this building!” yelled Midshipman Stark.
Cr-as-h!
The place shook as if an earthquake had passed beneath it. Mingling with the roar of the exploding shell and the scream of the projectiles that were now pumping into the city came a sound of splintering and smashing.
“Those fellows have the range,” shouted Ned above the uproar.
“Yes, and if we don’t get out of here quick we’ll find a grave in the ruins,” roared the midshipman.
As he spoke the building shook to its foundations once more, and a heavy explosion rent the air.
“Too close for comfort,” decided Stanley. “Come on, we’ll try the door.”