Alfred drew himself up and Ralph saw him disappear toward the front of the van. The latter followed, and, as he gained the top of the load, he noticed Alfred leaning over and grasping the steering wheel. The van swerved around and reached the road, after two of the loaded vehicles passed them. No sooner had they regained the road when they met a hail of shrapnel, this time one of the shells striking full and fair beneath the machine directly ahead.
Alfred had barely time to turn the machine to avoid the wreckage made by the shot. It was not such a time as to enable the men on one machine to aid those who were so unfortunate as to be hit by the missiles. The last series of explosions, unfortunately, struck the driver of the first van to pass them, as well as demolished the second. Ralph saw the driver fall and the machine turn. It described a circle.
Alfred looked back and put on the brake hard. Ralph understood. He leaped from the truck, and rushed across the intervening space, being fortunate enough to seize a stanchion at the side of the wild van as it dashed by. It was but a moment's work to reach the chauffeur's seat. He waved his cap to Alfred, whose car was now again on the main road. They had now gone more than half the distance across the Cut, and, looking back, Ralph saw four machines intact and following them. One was completely demolished and the load scattered; and another, evidently, had the motive power out of commission.
But they were not yet out of the danger zone. Alfred was now in the lead, and he had no idea where to go or what roads to take, as they approached several divergent roads. With shrapnel flying all about, he halted and as Ralph came up he drove alongside.
"What is the matter?" asked Ralph.
"Nothing," answered Alfred. "Wait until the other fellows come up. Some one must take the lead."
The third machine drew alongside.
"Go on," said Ralph. "We don't know the way."
"Nor do I," replied the driver.
"Has your driver recovered?" asked Ralph.