Even as he spoke a lurid flash threw a vivid glare over the sky, the gleam even penetrating the thick foliage. The crash that followed shook the ground, and sent a shower of leaves and twigs whirling from the trees. The Huns broke into a run, still retaining their hold upon their captive.
Another and yet another deafening detonation followed. The heavens glowered with the blood-red flames from the blazing Zeppelin sheds. Débris hurtled through the air all around the lad and his guards, although the scene of the explosion was at least half a mile away. The atmosphere reeked of the smoke of burning oil.
Presently the Huns, well-nigh breathless, came to a halt.
"It's all over now, Fritz," said one. "No more bombs have fallen. And Herr Major would have us believe that the English airmen were no good."
"It is all very well for Herr Major," retorted the other. "He, no doubt, is safe in his bomb-proof cellar. I, for one, should not be sorry if an English bomb blew him sky high. He makes our existence a misery. It is far worse than at——"
A dazzling flash seemed to leap from the ground almost at Athol's feet. He was dimly conscious of being hurled backwards, deafened by the noise of the detonation.
For quite a minute he lay still, not daring to move, and dimly wondering whether he were yet alive. Then he opened his eyes.
Some fifty yards off a fire was burning. In the centre of a circle of up-torn trees flames were bursting from a mass of débris, and throwing a ruddy glare upon the surrounding scene. The flames were spreading in the direction where he lay. He tried to rise. At first his efforts were unavailing. Something heavy was pinning him down: that something turning out to be the unconscious form of one of his guards. The other, huddled against an uprooted tree, was groaning dismally.
A sharp, burning pain on his right leg just above the knee warned Athol forcibly of his peril. An ember from the conflagration had settled on the limb and had burnt through his uniform trousers. Giving a tremendous heave the lad freed himself of his encumbrance and rose unsteadily to his feet.
"I'll have to drag those beggars out of it," he muttered, as he contemplated the helpless forms of his former captors. "They'll be burnt to cinders if I don't."