"Let's get out," said Bob. "I see some trenches over yonder. I remember reading about an engagement here."
A few minutes later they were face to face with evidences of battle. The whole country-side was devastated. Everything had been swept away by the hordes who breathed out death. Sickening débris was seen on every hand. Swarms of flies and insects had fastened upon heaps of filthy garbage. Nothing was seen of comfortable homesteads but charred, smoke-begrimed walls. Exploded shells lay around. Great excavations, the work of huge bombs, were seen on every hand. All around, too, they could see the carcases of horses, killed in battle, the bones of which were beginning to appear. The smells were horrible.
"Let's get away from this!" said Pringle; "it's worse than any hell I ever dreamed of."
But Bob refused to move. He seemed to be fascinated by what he saw. He loathed the sickening sights which met his gaze, but he could not tear himself away.
"See the hundreds of little mounds!" he cried. "They will be the graves of the fellows who fell here. Don't you remember what we read in the papers? When the Germans retreated, a number of men were left behind to dig little graves, and throw the dead into them."
"Come away, I tell you!" shouted Pringle.
"This is the beginning of war's aftermath, only the beginning—but, great God, think of it! What is that?"
"What?"
"Surely that's some one alive over there! Don't you see? In the ditch yonder."
As if by a magnet the two men were drawn to the spot to which Bob had pointed.