The man began to cough, and scrambling through the narrow doorway collapsed, pointing towards the interior of the stranded monster before losing consciousness.
Resting their rifles against the side of the Tank, Setley and his companions squeezed through the door. Sliding over the obliquely inclined floor, Ralph found himself brought up by the angle formed by it and the curved wall. His steel helmet saved his head from a nasty blow, for the whole space seemed filled with machinery.
"It ain't 'arf dark," commented Ginger, "barging into" the breech-block of a quickfirer. "'Ow about a light? I've got a box of lucifers on me somewhere."
"Do you think you're chief stoker of a crematorium?" asked Alderhame. "The place reeks of petrol, man. A spark and there'll be a terrific explosion."
"Lucky you spoke, mate," rejoined Anderson. "Matches seem to get our family into trouble. My brother, down Enfield way, got a month for 'aving a match on 'im when he went to the munition factory. Blimey, wot's this?"
He stooped; his hands came in contact with a human body, one of five lying tightly packed in one corner of the confined space.
"Don't think they've snuffed it," he continued. "Wot's to be done with 'em, sergeant?"
Ralph, not altogether pleased at having brevet by his comrade, pondered over the situation. If the crew were not dead they would stand a better chance of recovering consciousness in the open air. On the other hand, they would then be exposed to shell-fire, and it was evident that the Germans were getting closer to their objective.
"We'll get them out," he decided. "They'll be fairly sheltered under the lee of the Tank. It's a risk, but that cannot be helped."
With considerable difficulty the three Wheatshires contrived to lift, carry, and drag the unconscious men from the interior of the landship, the task of getting them through the narrow doorway being magnified by the fact that the floor tilted to an enormous degree.