"Bayonets, men," cried Corporal Shaw sharply. "Get ready to charge home."
"No, no, Corporal," cried Max, seizing him by the arm; "no bayonet fighting this round. Keep them away by rifle-fire from the bushes. They know nothing of us now; let them remain as ignorant as possible."
"Right. Ten rounds, rapid, boys! Ready! present! fire!"
The Germans had barely reached the fire and begun to pull away the burning faggots, when a sudden and withering hail of bullets swept down upon them. Half of them fell at once, and the remainder recoiled in confusion and doubt. Fire seemed to spit from the darkness all about them, and none knew for the moment whether they were in the presence of a foe, or whether a detachment of their own men, but just arrived, had taken them for enemy wreckers. Long before the officer in command could rally his men, push out scouts to ascertain the cause of the rifle-fire, and set the main body to resume their task, the fire had caught such firm hold that it was obvious to all that at any moment the shells might explode.
A general stampede away from the vicinity of the burning wagons ensued, and at a respectful distance the discomfited Germans gazed at the fire or occupied themselves in firing in the direction apparently taken by their unseen foes.
Suddenly, with an ear-splitting roar, the shells exploded. The concussion was tremendous, and huge showers of shells, broken bits of wagons, gravel, and flaming wood fell heavily in all directions. Many of those looking on were killed outright by the avalanche of falling material, and the remainder fled in mad panic from the deadly scene.
Max had already withdrawn his men beyond the edge of the cutting and marched them a couple of hundred yards farther down the line. The explosion caused them no casualties beyond a few minor cuts and bruises, and, with one last look at the track beneath them, they turned their backs upon the place and marched silently away towards the Dutch frontier.
The work of reprisal for a foul deed was done. Where the explosion had taken place an enormous crater had been torn in the permanent way. Beyond that the line was blocked by great piles of tangled wreckage which must have weighed hundreds of tons—Krupp guns and gun mountings, twisted almost out of all recognition, masses of machinery ruined beyond redemption, and engines, wagons, rails, and sleepers piled high in inextricable confusion. Many hours, if not days, of unremitting toil would be needed before the line could be reopened for traffic. Thus the main lines of communication of the Germans were severed and a heavy blow struck for the cause of the Allies.
On the trunk of a tree, at the top of the cutting close by, a notice was fixed: "In reprisal for the burning of an innocent village above Bastogne."