op from going stark, raving mad from the thunder of the guns.

Then, suddenly, when there was still an hour of daylight left, the guns
went silent for keeps, and instead there were all kinds of sounds of
feverish activity. Harsh orders flew thick and fast. Men shouted and
cursed. Tractor engines roared into life. Truck transport gears were
meshed in nerve rasping grinding sound, and as the boys watched through
their look-out crack they saw the Germans move slowly off down a road
leading toward the southwest. Neither of them spoke until the last truck
had passed out of view. And by then it was pitch dark, save for a
shimmering red glow to the east and to the south.

"Boy, I thought it would never happen!" Dave said in a shaky voice.
"Come on! Let's get going before others arrive here. Which way do you
think we'd better head?"

"The railroad track, I think," Freddy said after a moment of silence.
"It must have been blown all to bits by those Stukas, or else there
would have been a train come up to take those Germans away. Instead,
though, they headed down the road to the southwest."

"Check," Dave said. "And that track is supposed to lead to Dunkirk.
Gosh, I hope the British are still there."

"They must be there," Freddy said firmly. "You can still hear the guns
up ahead, so there must be somebody besides Germans around. I say, look
at that fog, or is it fog? Yes, it is. And it's beginning to rain, too.
Well, thank goodness for that. We won't be seen or heard so easily.
Right-o, Dave. Let's get on with it. Like the chaps in the R.A.F. say,
Tally-ho!"

"Tally-ho!" Dave echoed happily and started scrambling up out of the
cave.

Walking side by side, and gripping hands to hold up the other fellow in
case he slipped and started tumbling into a bomb crater, the two boys
struck out boldly along the single line of track. Before they had
traveled a hundred yards the railroad tracks stopped being what they
were supposed to be. They became a long stretch of twisted steel and
pulverized ties. But though the road bed was constantly pock marked with
bomb craters it served as a guide eastward for their crunching
footsteps.

Layers of fog came rolling in from the east, and with every step a fine
chilling rain sprayed down upon them. But rather than being annoyed and
uncomfortable, they were buoyed up by the miserable weather. It gave
them added protection from any German patrols in the neighborhood. It
hid them from the rest