"Then we've merely got to wait," said Wharton.
The three were standing close together, and a chill seemed to pass from one to another. That great danger threatened not one of the three doubted, and its mysterious character made it all the more formidable.
The aeroplanes drew apart a little and again circled about lazily. John began to have a hope that nothing would happen after all, when suddenly he saw a flash in the thickets and heard a stunning roar. A piece of metal whistled past his head, and leaves and twigs fell in a shower.
Acting partly from reason and partly from impulse he seized both Wharton and Carstairs and dragged them to the ground.
"A bomb!" he cried. "I had forgotten about bombs, although I've seen them used before. They had none with them and the little aeroplane went back to a hangar somewhere for a supply! They'll drop more and we'll be safer lying down!"
"You're right of course," said Wharton. "It's all as simple as day now. There goes the second!"
Came another flash and roar, but this time the bomb fell farther away, and the metal fragments flew high over their heads. A third followed with the same result, and they began to feel encouraged.
"Of course they have to drop them at random," said John, "and throwing down bombs from an aeroplane high in air is largely an affair of chance."
"Still," said Wharton, "I feel as if I would like to burrow in the earth, not merely for a foot or two, but for at least a hundred feet, where the biggest bomb ever made by the Germans couldn't reach me."
Carstairs uttered a cry of joy.