"How's that?" spelt the dot-and-dash message.
Where the shell had burst a dozen or more trees had been literally pulverized. Others, their trunks lacerated by the explosion, had toppled at various angles against those that had withstood the shock. The "hit" was roughly two hundred yards beyond the screened battery.
From beneath the foliage covering the emplacements men peeped timorously. A dull-grey figure, bent almost double, was running for shelter. It was one of the German sentries.
"Right direction; two hundred yards over," wirelessed Denbigh.
Another heavy projectile screamed on its way, passing some hundreds of feet beneath the seaplane. It burst; but the sound like that of its predecessor was inaudible to the pilot and observer. The action of the detonating shells reminded Denbi
