Greenmantle - John Buchan

lock any attempt to find safety outside it. Stumm and his gun had us at their
mercy.
We crouched below the parapet again. 'We may as well toss for it,' I said.
'There's only two ways—to stay here and be shelled or try to break through those
fellows behind. Either's pretty unhealthy.'
But I knew there was no choice. With Blenkiron crippled we were pinned to
the castrol. Our numbers were up all right.
But no more shells fell.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
The Guns of the North
The night grew dark and showed a field of glittering stars, for the air was
sharpening again towards frost. We waited for an hour, crouching just behind the
far parapets, but never came that ominous familiar whistle.
Then Sandy rose and stretched himself. 'I'm hungry,' he said. 'Let's have out
the food, Hussin. We've eaten nothing since before daybreak. I wonder what is
the meaning of this respite?'
I fancied I knew.
'It's Stumm's way,' I said. 'He wants to torture us. He'll keep us hours on
tenterhooks, while he sits over yonder exulting in what he thinks we're enduring.
He has just enough imagination for that ... He would rush us if he had the men.
As it is, he's going to blow us to pieces, but do it slowly and smack his lips over
it.'
Sandy yawned. 'We'll disappoint him, for we won't be worried, old man. We
three are beyond that kind of fear.'
'Meanwhile we're going to do the best we can,' I said. 'He's got the exact