desperate,
were scattering and trying to flee down river. O'Mara stumbled over a
barricade of rocks and boxes and almost got a Terran slug in him
before he realized that they had cut their way through to the broken
ship. He was up in a minute and urging his men on after the scattering
enemy. Twenty or thirty of them tried to make a stand around a tall
Rumi officer but O'Shaughnessy at the head of a wedge of Narakans
swept into them at a full run.

Their bayonets flashed for a few seconds and then flashed no more, the
steel was covered with blood. A few hundred Rumi made it to the river
under a hail of fire from O'Shea and his squad on the hill. Hardly
pausing to consider their cat-like aversion to water, most of them
plunged in and struck out for the other shore. The rest were cut down
on the bank by onrushing Greenbacks. Terrence grabbed hold of one of
his buglers and then had to practically beat the man over the head to
get him to sound Recall.

Bill Fielding picked his way among the bodies and came toward Terrence
holding his left arm. O'Shaughnessy was leaping up and down and waving
his fist across the river.

"Things different now! All different now! One Greenback better than
four, five, eight Rumi!"

"At least that many," Terrence said under his breath before he roared
at O'Shaughnessy, "Fall the men in on the double now! We're going to
march back to the _Sun Maid_ in proper military style."

There was a blowing of sergeant's whistles, the shouting of corporals,
and the Narakan Rifles slowly formed ranks. Some were missing and
others were limping and holding wounds but they stepped out smartly as
the column headed back up the river. Every rifle was at the correct
slope, every man was in step as they marched through the makeshift
barricade and past where Chapelle was standing. The drum and bugle
corps struck up _The Wearing of the Green_ just as O'Mara shouted,
"_Eyes Right!_" and every eye swung right in perfect unison. A
tattered and weary Chapelle brought a surprised hand up to salute and
the Narakan Rifles came to a snappy halt.

A small, black haired figure threw itself at Terrence and his arms
were again holding Joan Allen. "I knew you'd come," she said, "only a
big, crazy Irishman like you could do it."

He kissed her and then pressed his mud-caked face against hers as he
said into her ear. "Only three hundred big, crazy Irishmen, baby.
There's not a drop of anything else in me boys."

*