ould be among
them, shall be tried for disobedience as soon as the battle's over."

So spoke Colonel Lasalle to his French grenadiers just before the final
charge that decided the battle of Wagram. Then he waved his sword, and
shouted, "_En avant!_"

Forward swept the grenadiers like a torrent, with the shout which the
Austrians opposed to them already knew to their cost. Through blinding
smoke and pelting shot they rushed headlong on, with mouths parched,
faces burning, and teeth set like a vise. Ever and anon a red flash rent
the murky cloud around them, and the cannon-shot came tearing through
their ranks, mowing them down like grass. But not a man flinched, for
the same thought was in every mind, that they were fighting under the
eye of their "Little Corporal," as they affectionately called the
terrible Napoleon.

Suddenly the smoke parted, and right in front of them appeared the dark
muzzles of cannon, and the white uniforms of Austrian soldiers. One last
shout, which rose high above all the roar of the battle, the bayonets
went glittering over the breastwork like the spray of a breaking wave,
and the battery was won.

"Where's the Colonel?" cried a voice, suddenly.

There was no answer. The handful of men that remained of the doomed band
looked meaningly at each other, but no one spoke. Strict disciplinarian
as he was, seldom passing a day without punishing some one, the old
Colonel had nevertheless won his men's hearts completely by his reckless
courage in battle; and every man in the regiment would gladly have
risked his life to save that of "the old growler," as they called him.

But if he were not with them, where was he? Outside the battery the
whole ground was scourged into flying jets of dust by a storm of bullets
from the fight that was still raging on the left. In such a cross-fire
it seemed as if nothing living could escape, and if he had fallen
_there_, there was but little hope for him.

"_I_ see him!" cried a tall grenadier. "He's lying out yonder, and
alive, too, for I saw him wave his hand just now. I'll have him here in
five minutes, boys, or be left there beside him."

"But you mustn't disobey orders, Dubois," said a young Captain (now the
oldest surviving officer, so terrible had been the havoc), hoping by
this means to stop the reckless man from rushing upon certain death.
"Remember what the Colonel told you--that even if he _were_ left among
the wounded, no one must go out to pick them