The Washburn times. [volume] (Washburn, Wis.) 1896-1976, 1915-03-18
CHAPTER xil--Ccntlnued.

~~"~~
from the hreastwork, where they hat
! caught him In their arms as he fell
They laid him gently on the swart
with knapsack under his head. Hit
face grew whittier with the flow o.
blood from the red hole in the right
breast of his blouse. Then he opened
his lips and whispered to the doctor:
How Ia itf~ Something in his eyes
In the tone of that faint question, re
CURED the grace of q soldiers truth
In answer.
Bad" said the doctor.
Then, good-by!" And his head fell
to one side, his lips set In his CHEEKY
smile.
His company was q company with
his smile out Of its heart and in its
place blank despair. Many of the men
had stopped firing. Some had even
run back to look ct him and stood
caps OF, backs to the enemy, miser
able In their grief. Others leaned
against the parapet, rifles out Of hand
staring and dsxed.
They have killed our captain!-
They've killed our captain !"-still
q captain to them. A generals stars
could not have raised him a cubit In
their estimation. s,
And once we called him Baby Del.
larme.' he was so young and bashful!
Him baby? He was king!"
MEN. get to your places!" cried the
surviving lieutenant rather hopelessly
with no Dellarme to show him what
to do; and Marta saw that few paid
any attention to him.
In that minute of decentralization the
Grays had their chance, but only for a
minute A vote that seemed to speak
some uncomfortable thought of her
own broke in, and 1t rang with the au-
thortty and leadership OF a mature Of
acer's command, even though coming
from gardener in blue blouse and
crownless straw hat.
Your rifles, your rifles, Quick!"
called Teller. We're only beginning
to fight!"
And then another voice In a bull
roar. Stransky's:
"Avenge his death! They've got to
kill the last man of us for killing him!
Revenge! Revenge!"
That cry brought back to the COM
pany sill the fighting spirit OF the
CHEEKY smile and with 1t another spirit
for Dellarme's sakei--which he had
never taught them.
Stransky picked up one of several
cylindrical objects that were lying at
his feet
HE wouldn't use this-he was too
soft-hearted-but Wilt" he cried, and
flung hand-grenade, and then Sec
ond, over the breastwork. The explo-
sions were followed by agonized
groans from the Grays hugging the
lower side OF the terrace. For this
they had crswled across the road In
the night-to find themselves unable
to move either way and directly under
the flashes Of the Browns rifles.
Feller's and Stransky's shouts rose
together in a peculiar unity Of direc-
ton and fall of the fellowship they
had found in their first exchange OF
chances.
You engineers, make ready"
~Hand-grenades to the men under
the tree! That's where they're going
% try for .it-ao wall to climb over
there!" aa
"You engineers, take your riies-
and bayonet into anything that wears
gray!"
"Get back. you men by the tree. to
avoid their hand-grenades! Form up
behind them, everybody"
mo matter II they do get in at first!
Back, you men, from under the tree!"
There was not q single rifie-shot. In
a silence like that before the word to
Ore In q duel. all orders were heard
and the more readily obeyed because
DeiIarme's foresight had impressed
their sense upon the men in his quiet
way.
The sand-bags by the tree were
s blown up by the Grays. Then, before
the dust had hardly settled, came q
half score Of hand-grenades thrown by
the first men of Gray wedge, scram-
bling as they were pushed through
the breach by the pressure of the
mass behind. In that final struggle
Of one set of men to gain and another
to hold position, guns or automatics
or lons-range bullets played no part
1t was the grapple Of cold steel with
cold steel and muscle with muscle, in
the billewing. twisting mob Of wres