Putting aside, for the moment, all thought of trying to dig their way out of their underground prison, the Khaki Boys proceeded to do what they could for the unfortunate Iggy. Their flashlights gave considerable illumination to the otherwise dark hole, and by looking around Jimmy and the others saw what had happened.
The shell, bomb, or whatever it was, must have landed squarely on top of the dugout. And though this top proper, being made of concrete, was some distance underground, it had been made to collapse as one might push in the end of an egg. The roof of the dugout was depressed while the walls still stood upright, though much cracked. The place was filled with débris.
It was owing to the fact that the strong, thick walls held that the boys' lives were not at once crushed out. They had been along the edges, and not standing in the middle, when the crash came.
"Lift him over to one side, and we'll see if we can tell what's the matter with him," suggested Roger.
Accordingly they scraped as much dirt and débris off the Polish lad as possible, and then half lifted and half dragged him over to a pile of blankets.
"Feel any better?" asked Jimmy, as he gave his friend another drink from a canteen.
"Yes, of a little betterness am I," was the answer. "But do not of mind me. I can get alongs. Look for a way out of these place if you can find him. Do not mind me."
"Well, maybe I'd better be looking to see if I can find the old tunnel," said Jimmy. "We'll need to find that, anyhow, to get ourselves out, as well as Iggy. Roger, you come with me. Bob and Franz can stay with Iggy. We'll be back as soon as we can," he added.
The two boys climbed over the débris, flashing their pocket torches at intervals, so as not to use up the batteries too quickly. Bob and Franz made Iggy as comfortable as possible.
"Seems to me the place was over here," observed Jimmy, as he pulled aside some loose and splintered boards.