They all reached the open, where they found that the entire camp had been aroused by the nocturnal raid. They quickly learned from their excited comrades that other billets had been targets for the marauders and that several soldiers had been severely injured, while one was killed. Searchlights were sweeping the sky in the attempt to locate the hostile planes. Anti-aircraft guns were popping, and the French escadrille had already mounted to give battle. "There comes one!" shouted Frank, as his keen eyes caught sight of a tiny blaze coming through the air. "That's the fuse of a bomb." "And it's coming right toward us!" yelled Bart. "Run fellows--quick!" They needed no second injunction and it was well they moved quickly, for a moment later, the messenger of death came down close to the spot where they had been standing and exploded with a tremendous roar. But they had thrown themselves flat on their faces, behind whatever shelter they could find and the rain of iron missiles zipped over and all around them without inflicting much damage. "I went down in a mud puddle that time," growled Bart, as he rose dripping. "I notice you stayed there, though," grinned Tom. "Any port in a storm," laughed Billy. "There's no time to pick and choose when those ticklers are coming down. It's a case of 'the quick or the dead'." "I was quick all right," grumbled Tom, as he rubbed his knee, "and I'd almost rather be dead than do it again. See that stone? It got me!" For some minutes more occasional bombs dropped down over a wide area, especial attention being devoted to the field hospital in accordance with the usual brutal German tactics. But there were no more casualties, and after awhile the bombardment ceased. "Guess they're all out of ammunition," conjectured Frank, when at last quiet reigned. "Either that or our aviators have driven them off as they did this afternoon," returned Bart. "Let's go back to the mill," Tom suggested. "There'll be plenty of ventilation in the old crib to-night." "And my cot's right beneath that hole in the roof," grumbled Bart. "Safest place in the whole shebang," comforted Frank. "Lightning never strikes twice in the same spot." "Yes, but suppose it rains," grouched Bart. "Aw, it's good for the complexion," grinned Tom. "Anyway, you're soaked through now, aren't you? Some fellows are never satisfied." "Ah, stop fighting!" said Frank. "It couldn't rain if it wanted to with a moon like that." Once back in the mill, the army boys set about repairing the havoc wrought by the bomb. Billy picked up the banjo, patted it lovingly and was relieved to find that his favorite instrument had come through the German attack uninjured. "Glad you're all right, old girl," he said, running his fingers over the strings. "But I guess you're through for one night." "Yes," chuckled Tom, as he started to unlace his shoes. "The Huns have given us their idea of a moonlight serenade!" CHAPTER XIX