"Poor beast," muttered Carstairs, "I've always loved horses, and I'd like to get a little revenge."
"Maybe we can get it by waiting," said John, who was rapidly developing the qualities of leadership. "They can't possibly see us here in the gully which is lined thickly on either side with bushes."
"And you think if we lie quiet," said Wharton, "that they'll come down lower to see what damage they've done."
"That's my idea."
"You do seem to have a good head on you for a Yankee," said Carstairs.
They were silent a long time. Two more bombs were dropped but they did not strike near them. John heard the remaining horse straining at his bridle, and threshing among the bushes, but he did not succeed in breaking loose.
He was very comfortable among some leaves in the gully, but he was on his back, and he did not cease to watch the aeroplanes, drifting lazily between him and the heavens. It was hard to judge distances in the air, but he had watched them so long and so closely that they seemed to him after a while to be flying lower. Patient as the Germans were, they must see sometime or other whether their bombs had destroyed the fugitives in the grove.
"They're coming down toward the tops of the trees," he whispered. "Since they haven't heard from us for so long they've probably concluded that their bombs have finished us."
"They'll soon find out better," said Carstairs savagely. "That last horse they killed was mine, and the poor brute was torn horribly by pieces of the bomb."
John looked at him curiously.