der to reach the crest. But his men had fifteen hundred to go in the
valley before they were out of range. After their brave resistance
facing the enemy they would receive a hail of bullets in their backs.
This was the time to withdraw if there were to be assurance of a safe
retreat. But there was no signal. Until there was, he must remain.

The trench grew; the day wore on. Two rifles to one were now playing
against his devoted company, which had had neither food nor drink since
early morning. As he scanned his thinning line he saw a look of
bloodlessness and hopelessness gathering on the set faces of which he
had grown so fond during this ordeal. Some of the men were crouching too
much for effective aim.

"See that you fire low! Keep your heads up!" he called. "For your homes,
your country, and your God! Pass the word along!"

Parched throat after parched throat repeated the message hoarsely and
leaden shoulders raised a trifle and dust-matted eyelashes narrowed
sharply on the sights.

"For the man in us!" growled Stransky. "For the favor of nature at birth
that gave us the right to wear trousers instead of skirts! For the joy
of hell, give them hell!"

"For our homes! For the man in us!" they repeated, swallowing the words
as if they had the taste of a stimulant. But Dellarme knew that it
would not take much to precipitate a break. He himself felt that he had
been on that knoll half a lifetime. He looked at his watch and it was
five o'clock. For seven hours they had held on. The Grays' trench was
complete the breadth of the slope; more reserves were coming up. The
brigade commander of the Grays was going to make sure that the next
charge succeeded.

At last Dellarme's glance toward regimental headquarters showed the flag
that was the signal for withdrawal. Could he accomplish it? The first
lieutenant, with a shattered arm, had gone on a litter. The old sergeant
was dead, a victim of the colonial wars. Used to fighting savage
enemies, he had been too eager in exposing himself to a civilized foe.
He had been shot through the throat.

"Men of the first section," Dellarme called, "you will slip out of line
with the greatest care not to let the enemy know that you are going!"

"Going--going! Careful! Men of the first section going!" the parched
throats repeated in a thrilling whisper.

"Those who remain keep increasing their fire!" called Dellarme again.
"Cover the whole breadth of the trench!"

Every fourth m