"I told you so! Our boys are after them.

Good work! Good work!" But again a shell passed over them and again the world was filled with that awful whining, shrieking sound.
"Daddy," the child cried, with quivering lips, but still dry eyed.

"I don't _like_ those things.

I don't _like_'em." "There, there, darling," he comforted as they shrank closer under the protection of the wall.

"Keep down under my arm and they won't bother you." As he spoke a twig with a fresh yellow break in it fell from a tree and struck his upturned face.