"It rained all night the day I left The next day it was dry. The sun so hot I froze to def Suzanna, don't you cry." One after another took up the rollicking chorus-- "Oh, Suzanna, Don't you cry for me, Fur I'se gwine to Alabama Wif de banjo on my knee." _Bang! Bang! Bang!_ came three quick explosions, blending in a tremendous roar. At the same instant a hole appeared in the roof. Part of it caved in and came clattering down while a blinding glare filled the room! CHAPTER XVIII A GRIM REALITY The strumming ceased and the banjo fell to the floor. For a moment confusion reigned supreme. The shock and the glare had a paralyzing effect but it lasted only for an instant. Then the army boys pulled themselves together. "Is anyone hurt?" shouted Frank, as he looked about him. A groan came from a distant corner. They rushed in that direction. Fred Anderson was trying to struggle to his feet and in an instant willing arms supported him. His face was pale, blood was flowing from a gash in his forehead and his right leg crumpled up beneath him as he tried to bear his weight upon it. "I guess the old pin's gone back on me, boys," he said with a faint attempt to smile. "I don't seem to have any feeling in it. I guess the Huns got me that time." A quick examination showed that the leg was broken just below the knee. They quickly improvised a temporary splint and a field ambulance was called. The gash in the head proved to be only a flesh wound of no great importance. But it bled freely and gave the impression that Fred was dangerously, perhaps mortally wounded. It was the first time that these young novices in the art of war had seen blood flowing from American veins from a wound inflicted by a German, and it brought home to them that they were really in the war and might at any instant, like their luckless comrade, come to hand grips with death. "That sure was a close call," remarked Frank, after Fred, having been made as comfortable as possible, had been carried off by the ambulance to the field hospital. "It might have blown us all to bits." "That roof may be all right to keep out rain," said Billy, "but it wasn't built for bombs." "It must have been a glancing blow," commented Tom. "If it had come plump through our name would have been Dennis. It must have spent most of its force on the ridge pole and slid off to the ground." "Very considerate of it," said Bart, dryly. "There may be more where that came from," suggested Billy. "There may be a whole squadron of Hun flyers up there in the sky." "I guess it will be healthier to stay outside for a while," said Tom. "We can see the bombs coming and dodge them. It will be a new kind of outdoor sport." "It's a new game all right," Bart flung over his shoulder as they made their way outside. "And a game where the stakes are high. You pay dearly if you lose."