hinking,
and an equally insane wonder what Dave's body might be worth to him as
cover.

What was the silly word capering in his head? "Mill-clappers." Why on
earth "Mill-clappers?" It put him in mind of home: but he had no silly
tender thoughts to waste on home, or the folks there. He had never
written to them. If they should happen on the copy of the Gazette--and
the chances were hundred to one against it--the name of Nathaniel
Varcoe among the killed or wounded would mean nothing to them. He
tramped on, chewing his fancy, and extracted this from it: "A man with
never a friend at home hasn't even an excuse to be a coward, curse
it!"

Suddenly the column halted, in a bank of fog through which his ear
caught the lazy ripple of water. He woke up with a start. The fog was
all about them.

"What's this?" he demanded aloud; then, with a catch of his breath,
"Mines?"

"Eh, be quiet," said Teddy Butson at his elbow; "listen to yonder."
And the word was hardly out when an explosion split the sky and was
followed by peal after peal of musketry. Nat had a swift vision of a
high black wall against a background of flame, and then night came
down again as you might close a shutter. But the musketry continued.
"That will be at the breaches," Dave flung the words over his left
shoulder. Then followed another flash and another explosion. This
time, however, the light, though less vivid than the first flash, did
not vanish. While he wondered at this Nat saw first of all the rim of
the moon through the slant of an embrasure, and then Teddy's pale but
cheerful face.

The head of the column had been halted a few yards only from a
breastwork, with a stockade above it and a _chevaux de frise_ on top
of all. As far as knowledge of his whereabouts went, Nat might have
been east, west, north or south of Badajos, or somewhere in another
planet. But the past two years had somehow taught him to divine that
behind this ugly obstruction lay a covered way with a guard house. And
sure enough the men, keeping dead silence now, could hear the French
soldiers chatting in that unseen guard house and laughing.

"Now's the time." Nat heard the word passed back by the young engineer
officer who had crept forward to reconnoitre: and then an order given
in Portuguese.

"Ay, bring up the ladders, you greasers, and let's put it through."
This from Teddy Butson chafing by Nat's side.

The two Portuguese companies came forward with the ladders as the