into the room.

Rod, seeing what was about to happen, had swept his two comrades back so
that none of them chanced to be struck by the falling door. There was
now a wide gap, and the three uninjured Uhlans might easily rush through
this. They would find, however, that the resistance of the inmates did
not end with the breaking in of the door; for there was Rod holding
himself in readiness to shoot again, Josh with his upraised poker, Hanky
Panky also in line with a club, and the old man who had secured the
revered gun that had hung on the wall since '71, waiting for this day,
had its sword bayonet adjusted so as to pin the first German who dared
venture across that threshold.

Fortunately there was no necessity for further action on the part of the
valiant defenders of the village home, for just at that moment there
arose a series of the wildest shouts Rod had ever heard. They were
shouting in unison, those zouaves, as they spread through the village
looking for Uhlans to spit upon their hungry bayonets. Hanky Panky in
times past had more than once ventured to make fun of certain phrases
which he had heard spoken in French; but he was now ready to confess
that there was no language on the face of the earth to be compared with
the French as falling from the bearded lips of men who wore those baggy
red trousers of the famous zouaves.

"They've come, Rod, they've really got here!" he cried, in a paroxysm of
delight.

Josh too was equally satisfied, though he should always deeply regret
that it had not fallen to his lot to strike _one_ blow for the
cause, and that all the honors had gone to Rod.

Rod, seeing that none of the Uhlans seemed disposed to renew the attack,
managed to look out; and the others were speedily at his side.

The danger, in so far as it related to the inmates of the village
houses, was past; but evidently it had only begun for the Uhlans. They
had mounted their already tired horses in hot haste, that is, all those
capable of doing so, and were trying to get out of the village, turning
and firing back at the French with reckless abandon as they went
galloping away.

Rod saw one man trying to help another mount a prancing horse. He had
his arm about the wounded man and seemed to ignore his own danger in the
desire to fetch his comrade safely away.

"That's the fellow you pinked the first time!" cried Josh,
understandingly.

Rod had already guessed as much. He hoped deep down in his heart that