hey are fired on."

"Nothing new about that, I guess," replied Merritt. "It was done in the
battle of Gettysburg, where Lee used more than a hundred cannon to
bombard, before starting to carry Little Round-top and Cemetery Hill by
assault. I was just reading about it a few weeks ago in a magazine
article at home. But if those are their tactics, Rob, we ought to be
seeing some movement of troops pretty soon."

"Yes," the patrol leader admitted, "the gun fire is slackening right
now; and if we had glasses I expect we could see the infantry starting
forward. Those up in the Zeppelin can watch every move that takes
place."

"All the same I'd rather take my chances down here," Tubby announced.

"What's that moving away over there, Rob?" demanded Merritt. "Seems like
a gray looking snake creeping out from the shelter of the woods. I
declare if I don't believe it is a mass of men charging straight at the
Belgian trenches!"

"The Germans all wear a sort of grayish green uniform, you know," Tubby
declared, "which is so like the dirt that lots of times you can't tell
the soldiers from the earth half a mile away."

"Look sharp, fellows," said Rob, "because that is where they're going to
shoot their bolt. What we see is a battalion of infantry charging. Now
watch how they begin to gather momentum. Yes, and when the gun fire
lets up we'll hear the voices of thousands of men singing as they rush
forward, ready to die for the Fatherland."

They stood there with trembling limbs, and continued to watch what was
developing right before their eyes. It seemed as though that gray mass
would never cease coming into view. The whole open space was covered
with lines upon lines of soldiers all pushing in one direction, and that
where the intrenchments of the Belgians must lie.

"Oh! look! look! they're opening on them with quick-fire guns, and all
sorts of things!" Tubby exclaimed, in absolute horror. "Why, I can see
lanes cut in the lines of the Germans; but they always close up, and
keep right on! Isn't it terrible?"

"It is sublime!" said Rob; and that tribute to the unflinching bravery
of the German advance was about the limit of a boy's vocabulary.

"But the plucky little Belgians won't yield an inch of ground, you see!"
cried Merritt. "They keep pouring in that terrible fire, and mowing the
Germans down, just like they were cutting wheat on a Minnesota farm."

"How will it all end, I wonder?" said Rob, fascinated, more than he