[pg 210] "We've fairly bate them this time," said the apparent leader.
"Ay! Auld Bludgeon 'ill get a fricht in the mornin'."
"Man, we'll hae a fine time. Thae weemin 'ill hae plenty o' hard stuff an' shortbread."
"If you get there!" muttered Fireworks under his breath, as he espied the column of crawling and creeping revellers.
"Ready?" whispered Bludgeon.
"Yes," answered the firemaster.
"Fire!"
The three great nozzles sent forth gigantic waves of freezing water. The leading men were knocked down and almost petrified with the amazing deluge. Those behind were also drenched and chilled to the bone.
"God! It's the Germans," said a silly youth, as he turned and fled. But the harder cases cursed and charged up towards the foaming nozzles. The firemaster simply increased the water-power and down they went like ninepins, rolling and cursing in the most awful manner. Still, they were all as game as bantams, and cunningly clambered up the banks to make a flank [pg 211] attack. Here another surprise awaited them, for on reaching the top they heard a voice yell out, "Rapid fire". Twenty rifles spat out their lurid, flashing lights. The crash was terrific and terrified many. They rolled and fell back into the foaming lane of water.
"Are ye kill't?" one asked.