It was Iggy who first recovered his senses. Whether he was less shocked, or whether his nerves were in such a state from his recent experience as to make his unconsciousness of shorter duration, does not matter. The fact is he opened his eyes. And he was at once conscious that he was held down by the weight of much debris. It was on his legs and on his body, but his arms and head were free.
"Ach! Back again am I in de shell hole! It was a dream, yes, that I was taken out!" exclaimed the poor Polish lad. "It a dream must of been! I shall sleep again!"
But as he was closing his eyes, for he really, as he said later, thought that he was back in the shell hole, he saw Jimmy, who was half buried near him, moving slightly.
"Oh, Jimmy Blazes! And dey kill you, too!" sighed Iggy. "How sorry I am we both deat are alretty!"
"Who's dead?" asked Jimmy, in a faint voice. "I'm not, anyhow, but blamed near it. Is that you, Iggy?"
"Yes, I it is. But I know not if I am deader or aliver."
"Take my word for it--you're alive so far, though how long you'll be that way--or me, either--I can't say," said Jimmy. "What happened, anyhow?"
To Iggy's relief Jimmy managed to scramble out of the pile of dirt and stones that half buried him. And then, from another corner of what seemed to be the cellar, a third voice said:
"They sent over a proper shell, that time." It was Franz.
"A _proper_ shell? Most _improper_, I call it!" came from Roger. "It blew the mill to pieces!"
"And us along with it," added Bob. "Are we in the cellar?"
"Sub-cellar, basement--anything you like to call it!" put in Jimmy. "But is it possible that none of us is seriously hurt?"
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."