Examination showed that Rollo's leg was badly bruised from the ankle to the knee; in addition there were slight abrasions.
"It's lucky you didn't get a direct kick from that horse," continued Kenneth. "I'll bring some water and bathe it. I'm sorry we haven't any first-aid stuff with us."
With that Kenneth reascended the ladder, and made his way to a well that was situated about ten paces from where the back door of the house used to be. It was now nearly dark. The Belgian keeping his solitary vigil was hardly visible in the gloom.
The lad raised the heavy iron bucket, emptied about half the contents away, and was about to return to the cellar when the corporal gripped him by the shoulders.
"Regardez bien!" he whispered, pointing along the road that led to Cortenaeken.
"German cavalry!" exclaimed Kenneth.
"Would that it were!" said the Belgian. "Then we might see some fun. They are artillery. Ten thousand plagues on the clumsiness of Gaston! By missing that fellow, he allowed him to bring this hornets' nest about our ears. To the cellar! We cannot fight, we must hide and trust to luck."
Quickly the cellar-flap was shut, and in total darkness the six men waited for the opening of the German guns.
An appalling crash, followed by the rumbling of fallen bricks, announced that the first shell had hit the building. Mortar dropped from the arched roof of their underground retreat. The Belgians chuckled.
"Let the rascals waste their shells," declared Étienne. "They will want them badly before the war is over."