et on the road and
perhaps their comrades were as fond of them as he was of Eugene. It is a
mistake for a soldier to think much, as Westerling had repeatedly said.

Pilzer was shooting to kill. His eye had the steely gleam of his rifle
sight and the liver patch on his cheek was a deeper hue as he sought to
avenge Eugene's death. Drowned by the racket of their own fire, not even
Peterkin was hearing the whish-whish of the bullets from Dellarme's
company now. He did not know that the blacksmith's son, who was the
fourth man from him, lay with his chin on his rifle stock and a tiny
trickle of blood from a hole in his forehead running down the bridge of
his nose.

Fracasse, glancing along from rifle to rifle, as a weaver watches the
threads of a machine loom, saw that Hugo was firing at too high an
angle.

"Mallin!" he called. Hugo did not hear because of the noise, and
Fracasse had to creep nearer, which was anything but cooling to his
temper. "You fool! You are shooting fifty feet above the top of the
knoll! Look along your sight!" he yelled.

Fracasse observed, with some surprise, that Hugo's hand was steady as he
carefully drew a bead. Hugo saw a spurt of dust at the point slightly
below the crest where he aimed; for he was the best shot in the company
at target practice.

"I'm not killing anybody!" he thought happily.

XIX

RECEIVING THE CHARGE

What about Stransky of the Reds, who would not fight to please the
ruling classes? What about Grandfather Fragini, who would fight on
principle whenever a Gray was in sight? Now we leave the story of
Fracasse's men at the foot of the knoll for that of the Browns on the
crest.

Young Dellarme, new to his captain's rank, with lips pressed tightly
together, his delicately moulded, boyish features reflecting the
confidence which it was his duty to inspire in his company, watching the
plain through his glasses, saw the movement of mounted officers to the
rear of the 128th as a reason for summoning his men.

"Creep up! Don't show yourselves! Creep up--carefully--carefully!" he
kept repeating as they crawled forward on their stomachs. "And no one is
to fire until the command comes."

Hugging the cover of the ridge of fresh earth which they had thrown up
the previous night, they watched the white posts. Stransky, who had been
ruminatively silent all the morning, was in his place, but he was not
looking at the enemy. Cautiously, to avoid a reprimand, he raised his