"No," responded Ralph, "but we have a mile or so of close work, and this is the way the Germans have of welcoming us, as well,——"
"Crash,——" came the second shell, followed by another, completely drowning the voice of the assistant.
"They mean to get us this time, sure," said he finally. "Some airship gave them the tip, as they usually do. We must now make a run for it, I am sure of that."
The words had hardly left his lips before it seemed as though a dozen shells had burst simultaneously. One of the missiles had struck the load, or some of the flying pieces went through. The truck stopped. The assistant was lying on the ground motionless, and Ralph, although unhurt, was beneath a heavy box, as Alfred picked himself up and looked around.
He drew Ralph out and glanced at the assistant. "Too bad!" said the driver, as he descended from the van, and stooped down to examine his assistant. "That fragment finished him. But we haven't time to wait here. They have our range, and we cannot help him now. Get in quickly; there is another one coming, back there; two more,—oh! but they'll make mince meat of those fellows."
Looking back the boys saw a half-dozen loaded vans, all speeding up, and some of the men waving their hats in frenzy of excitement.
"Hiding doesn't do much good, but stay down at the side as long as you can," he shouted back.
Another explosion, this time most deafening, and so near that it seemed the truck was thrown to one side,—still on went the machine. Then something peculiar happened. The van started across the field toward the German lines.
"Something's wrong!" shouted Ralph. "I wonder what the driver is up to now? We're off the road."