He walked over a pile of masonry and beams. He saw Bob crawling out of a hole and Franz swinging himself down from what appeared to be a ledge. Roger picked himself up from a corner. Only Iggy seemed to be seriously hurt, but it was demonstrated, a few moments later, that he was not. For he scrambled out, scattering the dust in a cloud, and stood with his chums. They were a sorry sight--covered with dust and streaks of blood, for the wounds they had bound up had opened again, and they had many fresh scratches and cuts. "It's very evident what happened," declared Jimmy. "They must have dropped a shell on the roof, and it blew the mill right down into the ground, and us with it. We're in the cellar--or what was once the cellar." "And the next question is, how to get out," added Bob. "Hark!" exclaimed Jimmy, holding up a warning hand. There was silence, broken by a faint, crackling noise. "Do you think you hear the German guns, or ours!" cried Bob. "Neither one," said Jimmy, and there was a curious note in his voice. "What I hear--and what you'll all hear, soon--is the crackling of flames. The old mill--or what's left of it, boys--is on fire!" "Then let's get out!" yelled Roger. Jimmy looked about him, without moving. Above them there seemed to be a solid mass of torn beams and jumbled masonry. On either side there were stone walls--cracked walls, it is true, but, nevertheless, too solid to admit the passage of the Khaki Boys. And only on one side was there an opening, but this was so choked with debris as to make it seemingly impossible to make egress that way. And, as the young soldiers stood there, trapped under the collapsed mill, the sound of the crackling flames became more plain. They could smell, now, the smoke of burning wood. "We've got to get out! We've got to get out!" yelled Bob. He rushed to a place where, through a crisscross of beams and planks, he could see daylight. Yet, though there were openings, none of them was large enough to permit the passage of the smallest of the five Brothers. And the wooden beams and planks were all of extraordinary thickness. "We're trapped! Trapped! And the fire coming nearer!" half sobbed Bob. And then he saw through the crisscross of beams, coming toward the burning mill, a man who seemed to be an American officer. And yet he wore no such uniform as Bob had ever seen before. "Steady, boys!" cried this strange rescuer, as he glimpsed them. "I'll soon have you out! Wait! Don't bring the ruins down on top of you!" CHAPTER XII MUCH WONDERING