on the trigger.

Matin's hand at that moment was extended straight from him. Slowly now,
as Hal exerted his utmost pressure, the arm described a semicircle. Now
it pointed almost straight forward. Then, as Hal brought more strength
into play, the arm curved inward; and directly the revolver pointed
squarely at Matin's heart.

The perspiration stood out in great beads on Matin's forehead. He was
panting and gasping for breath. Hal was breathing easily, though the
manner in which the sinews on his forehead and arms stood out showed to
what extent he had extended himself.

When the mouth of the revolver pointed at Matin's heart, Hal said
quietly:

"Now, Matin, if you will release your hold on this gun I will let
you go free."

Matin's answer was a snarl of rage.

Whether the man went suddenly insane or whether he knew fully what he was
about, Hal can not say to this day; but under his own finger, the finger
on the trigger tightened. There was a flash, a muffled report and the
form of Matin fell limp in the lad's arms. Hal stepped back and Matin
slid to the floor. Hal stooped over and laid a hand over the man's heart.

"Dead!" the lad exclaimed, and added: "but not by my hand. He pressed the
trigger himself!"

CHAPTER XXX

THE ADVANCE

A bugle sounded.

The sleeping French camp sprang suddenly to life. Men, half dressed,
sprang from their cots--they had not disrobed entirely the night
before--and hurried to their positions, adjusting their clothing as they
did so. Regiments formed hurriedly in the darkness that is always more
intense just before dawn. Officers shouted and swore; horses whinnied
from the distance, indicating that the French cavalry, as well as the
infantry was forming.

A second bugle sounded; then many more. More commands from the various
officers. Aides rushed hither and yon delivering sharp orders to division
commanders. The men stood quietly in line. Came other sharp commands all
down the line:

"_En avant_!"

The troops began to move.

Overhead, screaming French shells from the big guns in the rear flew as
they raced for the distant German lines. This was no new sound. For
more than twenty-four hours now these big guns had been hurling shells
into the German ranks; and the men had become so used to the sounds of
their voices that they would have been almost unable to sleep had they
become silent.

This bombardment, continuing for more than twenty-four hours as it had,
was