"I think they're signaling," said Carstairs. "One of those monster guns must be getting ready to disgorge itself."
"The forty-two centimeter?" said John.
"Yes, and I'm right, too. I saw a flash in the forest, and here comes the little messenger!"
There was a roar and a crash so tremendous that John was almost shaken from his feet. An enormous shell burst near the earthworks, sending forth a perfect cloud of shrapnel and steel fragments. It resembled the explosion of a volcano, and as his ears recovered their power after the shock John heard the cries of many wounded.
"I think this force carries only one such gun with it," said Carstairs, "and it will be some time before they can fire it again. We have nothing to equal it, but the French seventy-five millimeter is an awful weapon. The gunners can time them so the shells burst only fifteen or twenty feet from the ground, and then they rain death. I think it likely that we have out now a flanking force that will get within range."
"There's cover to the right," said Warton, "if the French batteries advance at all, it will be that way."
They were ordered to stand to their arms, but it did not keep them from watching, as at present there was nothing for them to do. A second shot came presently from the forty-two centimeter, but the shell burst too far away to do any harm. John and his comrades turned their attention back to the right, where a line of woods ran.
Ten minutes more of waiting and they saw a succession of flashes among the trees. The French field guns far in advance of the main force were at work.
"Well done," said Carstairs. "The French artillery is fine, Scott. I believe their medium guns can beat any others of the same class in the world. Look how those woods flame with their fire! It scares me to go up in the air, but I'd like to be in one of those aeroplanes, where I could see the effect of the cannonade."
"There goes 'Busy Bertha' again," said Wharton.