The gasjets were once more lighted and the work went on.
"Rather near, wasn't that one ?" asked Barry of a wounded man at his side.
"Yes," he replied casually, "they got a piece that time," and again he sunk into apathetic silence.
In a few moments the driver had obtained his orders and was ready to set forth.
"Better wait a bit," said the sergeant at the door, "until their Evening Hate is over." "Oh, that's all right," said the driver.

"I guess Fritz is pretty well through.

They are rather crowded there at the mill, and I guess we'll go on." In his heart, Barry earnestly hoped that the sergeant would interpose with a more definite command, but, inasmuch as the bombardment had apparently ceased, and as if it were all in a day's work, the driver, buttoning up his coat, said: "We'll go, sir, if you are ready." A few minutes' run brought them to the gate of the ruined city.

As the car felt its way through the ghostly town, Barry was only vaguely conscious in the darkness of its ghostly skeletonlike ruins.

Fifteen minutes brought them to the Menin gate.
"Sounds rather hot out there," remarked the driver.