"Sunnydene is about the best target of the lot," he smiled. "It would be funny if the enemy were to bombard the property of the brother of one of their own admirals!"
Mr. Croucher shook his head wisely.
"They won't bombard Sunnydene," he affirmed. "Young Max Hilliger, who, it seems, was rescued with his uncle from the Schiller, will see to it that the house is not harmed."
"In that case, Sunnydene would be a safe refuge for us," Mark Redisham declared. "At the first alarm we ought to round up all the women and children and corral them in the grounds."
"The chances are that the Germans would batter Sunnydene to bits in aiming at your own house, Mark," laughed Darby.
"For my own part," resumed Mr. Croucher, "I am getting a man to dig a refuge trench in my back garden. He'd nearly finished it yesterday, only unfortunately in the heavy rain last night the sides fell in for want of supports. The corporation ought to have proper trenches dug on the denes where the inhabitants could fly in case of danger."
"And get killed while they're flying," mischievously suggested Seth Newruck.
"Mrs. Daplin-Gennery is going to have one dug in her kitchen-garden," observed Mark Redisham. "Her gardener has enlisted, however, so we Scouts are going to do a good turn by digging it. Indeed, we are now on our way down to the beach to have a bit of practice and plan out the thing."
"Ah!" said Mr. Croucher, "I expect you'll do it so well that you'll have all the neighbourhood asking you to dig trenches in their gardens. Well, it's for the good of the community. If the War Office and the Admiralty together won't look after us, we must look after ourselves."
Mark got three spades from his own tool shed and borrowed another from Mrs. Daplin-Gennery's chauffeur. Armed with these implements, he and his companions went down to the foot of the cliff.