nd could only gasp out:
"The captain understands, sir." And then the regimental commander simply
turned to the battalion leader, standing silent at his left in a little
clump of timber--another veteran captain grown gray as himself in long,
long years of service:

"Now's our time, old man! Pitch in! Gray, we'll go with him."

All along the line from right to left there ran the cross-country road
connecting the broader highway, from Malate to San Rafael and Paranaque
on the west, and from West Paco by way of Singalon to Pasay. In front of
the right wing all was swamp, morass or rice fields. In front of the left
wing all was close, dense bamboo and jungle, save where the broad,
straight roadway led on past Block House 13, or the narrower cart track
stretched southward, overarched in places by spreading branches, and
commanded at its narrowest path by the swarm of dusky fighters in Block
House 14. A year before the blue-shirts stormed these forest strongholds
from the south, and took them from the troops of Spain. Now they were
compelled to turn and storm them from the north; for, just as Stanley
Armstrong said at San Francisco, the Filipinos had turned upon their ally
and would-be friend. Aguinaldo had bearded Uncle Sam.

And while the volunteers and regulars to the right could only remain in
support, it fell to the lot of the left wing of this brave brigade to
assault in almost impenetrable position an enemy armed with magazine
rifles or breech-loaders, and entirely at home. The bugles rang the
signal; the officers in silence took their stations, and, stepping into
the narrow pathways through the jungle, crouching along the road-ways or
crashing through the stiff bamboo, the blue-shirts drove ahead. Two,
three minutes, and their purpose seemed undiscovered. Then suddenly Block
House 14 blazed with fire and a storm of bullets swept the road. The
earthworks in the thickets to the right and left seemed to be crowded
with a running flame; and down on their faces fell the foremost soldiers,
their gallant leader shot through and through, plunging headlong, yet in
his dying agony waving his surviving men to get to cover. Vengefully now
the "Krags" opened in reply to Remington and Mauser. The blue-shirts
struggled on inch by inch through the network of bamboo. Still the storm
swept up the roadway, and no man could hope to face it and live. But,
little by little, the low-aimed, steady volleys, driven in by squad and
section thr