It was half-a-dozen soldiers from the barracks, who had run up at the sound of the shooting. Paul had now made his way into the shed. He broke a window-pane and fired three shots. The soldiers made for shelter; but others arrived, took their orders from the corporal and dispersed; and Paul saw them scrambling up the adjoining slopes in order to head him off. He fired his rifle a few more times; but what was the good? All hope of resistance had long since disappeared.
He persevered, however, killing his adversaries at intervals, firing incessantly and thus gaining all the time possible. But he saw that the enemy was maneuvering with the object of first circumventing him and then making for the tunnel and chasing the fugitives.
Paul set his teeth. He was really aware of each second that passed, of each of those inappreciable seconds which increased Bernard's distance.
Three men disappeared down the yawning mouth of the tunnel; then a fourth; then a fifth. Moreover, the bullets were now beginning to rain upon the shed.
Paul made a calculation:
"Bernard must be six or seven hundred yards away. The three men pursuing him have gone fifty yards . . . seventy-five yards now. That's all right."
A serried mass of Germans were coming towards the shed. It was evidently not believed that Paul was alone, so quickly did he fire. This time there was nothing for it but to surrender.
"It's time," he thought. "Bernard is outside the danger-zone."
He suddenly rushed at the board containing the handles which corresponded with the mine-chambers in the tunnel, smashed the glass with the butt-end of his rifle and pulled down the first handle and the second.
The earth seemed to shake. A thunderous roar rolled under the tunnel and spread far and long, like a reverberating echo.