“Well now, fellows, we seem to be in the fix of our lives!” exclaimed Cranny. He did his best to control a vibrating note in his voice. “The other bombardment was just a joke to this!”
“You were right after all about the sleeping volcano stuff, Cranny!” remarked Tom, solemnly. “Only this is a lot worse.”
A rain of shells was carrying terror and destruction to the town. The smoke of numerous fires rolled up in whirling columns against the clear blue sky.
A handful of bullets, suddenly striking the wall on the opposite side of the house, and others, tearing and ripping through the foliage of a tree close by, sending branches and twigs to the ground, gave the lads a terrible start.
“It won’t be safe to stay here much longer!” breathed Tom.
“I say let’s steer straight for our hotel on the plaza,” said Bob. “Possibly we may run across some of the fellows in that direction.”
The lads were afraid to remain in their present position, yet equally afraid to leave its shelter. Shells were passing overhead. One expended its force in a field not far beyond, with a tremendous outburst.
The rapidity with which events were moving, however, decided matters for them.
Scarcely daring now to look around the corner of the house, they finally did so, when a curious cessation of the Federal batteries and rifle firing occurred.
And the sight which their eyes took in was enough to make even a seasoned special war correspondent like Ralph Edmunds tremble with apprehension and alarm.