Dust and smoke filled the room.
"Light up that gas," said the Officer Commanding. An orderly sprang to
obey. The gasjets were once more lighted and the work went on.
"Rather near, wasn't that one?" asked Barry of a wounded man at his
side.
"Yes," he replied casually, "they got a piece that time," and again he
sunk into apathetic silence.
In a few moments the driver had obtained his orders and was ready to set
forth.
"Better wait a bit," said the sergeant at the door, "until their Evening
Hate is over."
"Oh, that's all right," said the driver. "I guess Fritz is pretty well
through. They are rather crowded there at the mill, and I guess we'll go
on."
In his heart, Barry earnestly hoped that the sergeant would interpose
with a more definite command, but, inasmuch as the bombardment had
apparently ceased, and as if it were all in a day's work, the driver,
buttoning up his coat, said:
"We'll go, sir, if you are ready."
A few minutes' run brought them to the gate of the ruined city.
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