The Monticellonian., 1915-01-14

I pumping fast in dim pantomime.
But the guns of the Browns, also,
have word that the charge has begun.
The signal corporal is waiting for the
gesture from Dellarme agreed upon as
an announcement. The Brown artil
lery commander cuts his fuses two
hundred and fifty yards shorter. He,
too, uses percussion for moral effect
Half of the distance from the foot
to the crest of the knoll Fracasse's
men have gone in face of the hot, siz-
zling tornado of bullets, when there is
blast of explosions in their faces
with all the chaotic and irresistible
force of a volcanic eruption. Not only
are they In the midst of the first lot
of the Browns shells at the shorter
range, but one Gray battery has either
made mistake in cutting its fuses or
struck streak of powder below stand
ard, and its shells burst among those
whom it is aiming to assist
The ground seems rising under the
feet Of Fracasse's company; the air is
split and racked and wrenched and
torn with hideous screams of invisible
demons. The men stop; they act on
the uncomfortable instinct of self-pres-
ervation against an overwhelming
force of nature. A few without the
power of locomotion drop, faces
pressed to the ground. The rest flee
toward shoulder of the slope
through the instinct that leads a
hunted man in a street into an alley.
In a confusion of arms and legs, press
ing one on the other. no longer sol
diers, only a mob, they throw them
selves behind the first protection that
offers itself. Fracasse also runs. He
runs from the flame of a furnace door
suddenly thrown open.
The Gray batteries have ceased fir
ing; certain gunners' ears burn under
the words of inquiry as to the cause
of the mistake from an artillery COM
mander Dellarmes men are hugging
the earth too close to cheer A desire
to spring up and yell may be in their
hearts, but they know the danger of
showing a single unnecessary inch of
their craniums above the skyline. The
sounds that escape their threats are
those of winning team at tug of
war as diaphragms relax
With the smoke clearing, they see
20 or 80 Grays plastered on the slope
at the point where the charge was
checked. Every one of those PROSTATE
forms is within fatal range. Not one
moves finger; even the living are
feigning death in the hope of surviv-
ing. Among them is little Peterkin,
so faithful in forcing his refractory
legs to keep pace with his comrades.
If he is always up with them they will
never know what is in his heart and
call him a coward. AS he has been
knocked unconscious, he has not been
in the pell-mell retreat.
His first stabbing thought on coming
to was that he must be dead; but, no;
he was opening his eyes sticky with
dust At least, he must be wounded!
He had not power yet to move his
hands in order to feel where, and when
| they grew alive enough to move, what
| he saw In front of him held them
| frigidly still His nerves went search
ing from his head to his feet and
miracle of heaven,-found no point of
pain or spot soppy with blood. If he
were really hit there was bound to be
one or the other, he knew from read
ing.
Between him and the faces of the
| Browns-yes, the actual, living, terri
BILE Browns-above the CLINT of their
rife barrels. was no obstacle that
could stop a bullet. though not more
than three feet away was a crater
made by a shell burst. The black cir
Gle of every muzzle on the crest
seemed to be pointing at him. When
were they going to shoot? When was
he to be executed? Would he be shot
in many places and die thus? Or would
| the very first bullet go through his
head? Why didn't they fire? What
we're they waiting for? The suspense
was unbearabe. The desperation of
overwhelming fear driving him in ire
sponsible impulse, he doubled up his
legs and with cats leap sprang for
/ the crater.
| A bloed-curdling burst of whistles
passed over his head as dozen rifles
/ cracked This time he was surely
] killed. He was in some other world
Which was it. the good or the bad
The good, for he had a glimpse of blue
sky No, that could not be, for he had
i been alive when he leaped for the
crater, and there he was pressed
against the soft earth of its bottom.
He burrowed deeper blissfully. He
was the nearest to the enemy of any
man of the l2Sth, and he certainly
had passed through a gamut of emo
/ tions in the half-hour since Eugene
Aronson had leaped over white post.
"Confound it! If we'd kept on we'd
have got them! Now we have to do
ii all over againl" growled Fracasse
distraetedly as he looked around at
the faces hugging the cover of the
shoulder-fact asking. What next?
each in its own way; faces blank and
white; faces with lips working and
eyes blinking; faces with the blood
rushing back to cheeks in bafiled an
! ger. One, however was half smiling
Hugo Mallin's.
You did your share of the running,
IN warrant. Mallin!" said Fracasse
exeitedly. venting his disgust on q
| particular object.
Yes. sir" answered Hugo. 1T was
very hard to maintain semblance of
dignity. Yes. sir, kept near you all
the time. Wasn't that what you wanted
me to do STRIP