"What can you find to be glad about in a situation like this?" asked Wharton.
"I've been poking through the bushes and I find just beside us a deep gully."
"A trench made and ready for us! Come, we'll be the boys in the trenches!"
They passed through the bushes and dropped down in the gully which was in truth a great natural help to them. It was certain that in time a bomb would strike near, but unless it dropped directly on them they would be protected by their earthen walls from its flying fragments. And the odds were greatly against a bomb falling where they lay. The revulsion of feeling was so great that they became jovial.
"You've never agreed with me more than once or twice, Carstairs," said Wharton, "but I don't think you'll dispute it, when I say this is a fine, friendly little ravine."
"The finest I ever saw. I'm an expert in ravines. I made a specialty of 'em all through my boyhood, and I never saw another the equal of this."
"Now, they're guessing badly," said John, as a bomb burst in the far edge of the grove, some distances away.
"I wish we could find shelter for our horses," said Carstairs. "Those fellows in the air undoubtedly have glasses, and, not being able to see us, they may choose to demolish our remaining two beasts."
"There goes one now!" exclaimed John, as another bomb burst and a shrill neigh of pain followed.
A horse had been struck by two fragments, and wild with pain and terror it reared, struggled, finally broke its bridle, and galloped out into the fields, where it fell dead from loss of blood.