The boys wandered on. Coming from a country rich in magnificent old maples and elms, the ruin, so cowardly and so ruthless, of the great trees seemed one of the most terrible aspects of the war. Not only were they torn by shells, but mile after mile stood dead and dying from the effects of the gas attacks of the enemy. The gas seemed to be as fatal to the trees as it was to human beings. Not only had the leaves curled up and fallen, but the trunks themselves were blackened and dead looking. It was like a country in a nightmare, everything in the way of buildings flat on the ground, literally not one stone left on another. The dead and dying trees, leafless and twisted, let the sunshine down upon it all with scarce a shadow. The boys reached the site of what had evidently once been a fine farm. It was a total ruin. They went clambering over the loose heaped-up stones of what had once been a fine old dwelling, and sat down for a moment on a flat block that had made the broad and generous doorstep. “Gee, this must have been an old place,” said Porky. “See the way the edge of this stone is worn--and it is granite at that.” “Look at the size of it, too,” said Beany. They sat studying the stone when a faint feeble wail was heard. They looked at each other, startled. “Aw, gee, there’s a kitten shut up some place,” said Beany, jumping up. “Let’s find it.” “Sure we will,” said Porky, “but we can’t take it along. I don’t suppose General Pershing would want to add a cat to his traveling party.” “It sounded most dead,” said Porky. “Kitty, kitty! Here, kitty,” he called in his most persuasive voice. Another little cry answered him and gave them the direction. “It’s the cellar,” said both boys together, and with one accord they seized a couple of stout timbers and commenced to pry away part of the wreckage in what seemed the likeliest entrance to the pitch black hollow under the bent and broken floor timbers, on which still rested masses of stone. Suddenly, in response to their efforts, a huge stone, mate to the one they had been sitting on, tipped sidewise and slowly slid down into the darkness, followed by a shaft of light. There was a sharp cry from below, and the boys looked at each other, a sort of horror on each face. “That’s no kitten!” gasped Beany. For answer Porky slid feet first in the wake of the big stone, landed on it, and stepped off into a gloomy chamber now feebly lighted from above. In a moment his eyes were accustomed to the dim light, and he stepped aside, making way for Beany, who came helter-skeltering down behind him. What they saw was a room that had been used as a store-room for the farmhouse. By some trick of fate the falling walls, while they had made a tight prison of it, had spared the most of the shelves of provisions, and rows of preserves and tins of fruit still stood safely in their places.