"I haven't looked," answered Joe. "I wanted to get the dirt off you fellows. I'm afraid we're caught, though."
And they were. An examination, made with the pocket lights, showed them that the way back was blocked by a mass of rock and earth and that no progress ahead could be made for the same reason.
"I guess we'll have to dig our way out," said Joe.
"What with?" asked Charlie.
"Some of the broken boards that held up the tunnel," was the answer, and Joe pointed to pieces of timber that had been splintered and shattered by the cave-in.
"Yes, it's the only way out," agreed Blake, who, now that his cut had been bound up with bandages from the first-aid kits the boys carried, felt better. "We'll have to dig out." And after a short rest they began this work.
A terrible fear was upon them, a fear greater than that caused by their capture by the Germans with the possibility of being shot as spies. It was the fear of a horrible death—buried alive.
They dug as best they could for some time with the broken boards, their hands becoming cut and bruised by the rough edges. And yet, with all their efforts, they could not see that they had gained much.
They were digging back along the way they had come in, for, as Blake said, they knew how long the tunnel was in that direction, but they did not know how far it extended the other way.
"Is it of any use to continue?" asked Joe wearily, when they had been digging for what seemed several hours, though really it was not as long as that.