“Reasonably so, I think,” admitted the leader.
Encouraged by his tone Josh began to cast about in the hope of discovering a hiding place that would stand the test. This he speedily succeeded in doing, for Josh had sharp eyes, and could see things in a flash that it would take another a long time in finding out.
So they made haste to hide the trio of motorcycles in the shrubbery, hoping no one might by accident force a way through just at that particular point, and discover what had been left there.
“Now let’s whoop it up for the rise!” suggested the eager Josh, for the sound of the battle had grown so insistent that he was fairly wild to see everything going on.
They all ran in a bunch, for Rod held Josh in, so that Hanky Panky might not be left too far behind. When they arrived at the place picked out for their station they found that, just as Josh had guessed, it was admirably fitted for their purpose.
Brief though the time had been taken up with this strategic maneuver the fight had evidently progressed beyond the preliminary artillery duel. True, the guns on either side of the Marne were thundering fearfully, and every time a battery sent out its winged messengers of death the very earth seemed to tremble under the boyish trio, who crouched there, and gazed with their hearts fluttering in their breasts like those of frightened birds when held in the hand.
The Germans had left quite a strong detachment of their forces behind to defend that particular ford, which evidently assumed an important position in the eyes of the commander. The Marne could not be crossed with heavy artillery in all that section without the building of a bridge to replace those destroyed by the retreating Teutons, which would take a certain measure of time to execute.
But it was possible to get the guns across here at the ford, for that was what the Germans themselves had done. And a crossing here in force would mean that the pursuing columns of the French must creep that much closer to the precious big guns which the Germans were doing everything in their power to save from capture.
A thousand men might be sacrificed in this endeavor, but what of that? Human material could be replaced readily enough, but it took months to build up one of those magnificent forty-two centimetre mortars with which they meant to batter down the defences of Paris, and win the war.
At the moment the three boys reached their point of observation things were rapidly drawing near a crisis. The French troops were undoubtedly getting wild to be let loose upon the waiting enemy; only their commander knew that the chances were as two to one they would not be able to get across the river so long as that one battery in particular commanded the ford. Its shells were able to sweep over every yard of the crossing, and could cut down those who were wading desperately through the waist-deep water, as though they were helpless flies.