“Hit that board again,” cried Sydney, his eyes intent on the edge next the wall near him. Phil struck the board a resounding blow. Its edge moved ever so slightly. Sydney grasped a bayonet from a soldier and entered its sharp point between the edge of the board and the wall. In but a moment the board had been removed and the lads peered down into a black pit from which the damp smell of earth came up to their nostrils. The silence was breathless. The first to enter might be killed instantly by the enemy cornered like rats in the dark hole. “Light, quick,” whispered Phil to a wide-eyed soldier. One was soon brought and lowered into the yawning chamber. “It’s a cellar,” exclaimed Phil from his knees, his head peering beneath the level of the floor; “we must go down.” Some of the soldiers brought a rope and knotted it; the dangling end led down to the earth floor of the cellar. The boys with revolvers tightly grasped descended quickly, their hearts beating wildly, until their feet struck the earth twenty feet below them. The light from above threw a glimmer about the mouldy cavern. There was no one there. “The guns,” Sydney whispered suddenly, clutching Phil’s arm and pointing to a corner of the cellar. There was a large pile of some objects covered carefully with canvas. A closer observation showed Sydney was right. The machine guns and many boxes of ammunition were stored under that large expanse of canvas. The lieutenant and five of his men slid down on the rope, their rifles rattling menacingly; the other men remained at the top of the hole ready to haul the men up from below when necessary. “The blood leads down that tunnel,” Phil cried in alarm. “Two men could stand off two dozen in that place--but we must attempt it. Come on, Syd.” Carrying the light they cautiously advanced, the soldiers slowly bringing up the rear. “A door,” Sydney whispered as the dim light of the lantern showed the tunnel ending in a heavy partition of wood. Calling the soldiers forward, the party flung themselves against the door, but it had doubtless been built for just such a purpose and withstood each successive attempt. Some of the men went back for the battering ram while the lads examined the door closely. “There is blood on the door,” Phil cried, showing the fresh red stains on his hand from contact with the door. “But where does it lead?” “I believe it goes into the next house,” cried Sydney, “and they’ll get away from us. Tell the lieutenant to order his men to surround both houses on each side.” The lieutenant, evidently not relishing this uncertain way of attack in a dark cellar with but a poor and inefficient lamp, agreed readily to go back himself to see that both houses were covered by his men. It seemed an age to the anxious lads until the soldiers returned with the heavy log. “All hands now,” cried Phil, he and Sydney laying willing hands on the ram. “Together; there she goes.”