The shell dropped ten yards to our right.

A second later another fell behind us.
Blenkiron had dragged himself to the parapet.

I don't suppose he had ever been shelled before, but his face showed curiosity rather than fear.
'Pretty poor shooting, I reckon,' he said.
'On the contrary,' I said, 'they know their business.

They're bracketing ...' The words were not out of my mouth when one fell right among us.

It struck the far rim of the _castrol_, shattering the rock, but bursting mainly outside.