The Washburn times. [volume] (Washburn, Wis.) 1896-1976, 1915-04-29
CHAPTER XViIi-ContInued.

Far UP on a peak among the birds
and aeroplanes, in rooted, shell-proof
chamber, with a telephone orderly at
his side, powerful pair Of field-glasses
and range-finders at his elbow, and
telescope before his eye, Gustave Eel
Ter, one time gardener and now acting
colonel of artillery, watched the burst
of shells over the enemy's lines. While
other men had grown lean on war he
had taken on enough flesh to fill out
the wrinkles around his eyes that
shone with an artists enjoyment OF
his work. Down under cover Of the
ridge were his guns, the keys OF the
instrument that he played by calls
over the wire. Their barking was a
symphony to his ears; errors of or
chestration were errors in aim. He
talked as he watched, his lively fea-
lures reflective of his impressions.
ooh, pretty! Right into their tum-
mics! Right in the nosei La, la, Ia!
But that's off-and SOS that! Tell
Battery c they're fifty yards over. Oh,
beady-eyed gods and shiny little fishes
two smacks In the same spot
Humph! Tell Battery C that the
trouble with that gun is worn rifiing;
that's why it's going short. Elevate it
for another hundred yards-but 1t
ought not to wear out so soon. I'd like
to kick the maker or the inspector. The
fellows In B Fl will accuse us of mat
tention. It's time to drop a shell on
them to show we're perfectly impartial
In our favors. La, la, la! Oh, what
a pretty smack! Congratulations"
B 81 was the position of Fracasse's
company and the pretty smack the
one that broke one mans arm, and
crushed anothers head.
The God with us!" song was singu-
larly suited to the great bull voice of
its composer, born to the red and be-
come Captain Stransky In the red
business Of war. 1t was he who led
the thunder of its verses.
81 certainly like that song" he said.
Well he might. 1t had made him IA
nous throughout the nation There's
we'll have our own"
But we're always losing POSITIONS"
complained one of the men. Little
by little they are getting possession"
"They say the offensive always
wins" said another.
Five against three! They count
on numbers" said Lieutenant Tom
Fragini
There you go, Tom! Any other
pessimigts or anarchists want to be
heard?" called out Stransky. Just
how long, at the present rate, will it
take them to get the whole range?
There's limit to the number of even
i've Millions"
Then the telephone in the redoubt
brought some news. The staff begged
to inform the army that the enemy's
casualties in the last three days had
been two hundred thousand! Immedi-
ately everybody was talking at once
In Stransky's parliament, as he some
times called that company of which
he was, in the final analysis, unlimited
monarch.
How do they known"
do you think it's fake?"
THAT sums up to pretty near a mil
1ioni"
my God! Think of ia million!"
We're whiting them down."
ut doesn't make any difference
whether Partow Or Lanstron is chief
of staff"
They're paying!"
Paying for our fellows that they've
killed! Paying. for being In the
wrong!"
Stransky. hiE eyes drawing inward
in their characteristic slant, was we'll
pleased with his company, and the
scattered explanatory badinage kept
on until 1t was interrupted by the ar
rival of the mail. Partow and Ian
stron, understanding their machine as
human in its elements, had chosen
that the army shoulc hear from home
"Hows this!" exclaimed one man,
reading from a newspaper. They're
going to put up q statue Of Partow In