ad thrown back and shoulders
stiff. Feller the gardener was dead and buried without ceremony.

"Lanstron's class, school for officers, sir. Stood one in ballistics,
prize medallist control of gun-fire. Yes, sir, I know something about
rapid-firers," Feller replied, and fired a few more shots. "A little
high, a little low--right, my lady, right!"

Stransky was back in his place next to the automatic and firing whenever
a head appeared. He rolled his eyes in a characteristic squint of
scrutiny toward the new recruit.

"Beats spraying rose-bushes for bugs, eh, old man?" he asked.

"Yes, a lead solution is best for gray bugs!" Feller remarked pungently,
and their glances meeting, they saw in each other's eyes the joy of
hell.

"A pair of anarchists!" exclaimed Stransky grinning, and tried a shot
for another head.

As if in answer to prayer, a gunner had come out of the earth.
Sufficient to the need was the fact. It was not for Dellarme to ask
questions of a prize-medallist graduate of the school for officers in a
blue blouse and crownless straw hat. His expert survey assured him that
before another rush the enemy had certain preparations to make. He might
give his fighting smile a recess and permit himself a few minutes'
relaxation. Looking around to ascertain what damage had been done to the
house and grounds, he became aware of Marta's presence for the first
time.

"Miss Galland, you--you weren't there during the fighting?" he cried as
he ran toward her.

"Yes," she said rather faintly.

"If I had known that I should have been scared to death!"

"But I was safe behind the pillar," she explained. "Your company did its
work splendidly," she added, looking at him with eyes dull and
wondering.

"Do you think so? They _are_ splendid, my men! They make one try to be
worthy of them. Thank you!" he said, blushing with pleasure. "But, Miss
Galland, please--there's no firing now, but any minute----."

"Yes?"

He did not attempt masculine firmness this time, only boyish pleading
and a sort of younger-brother camaraderie.

"Miss Galland, you're such a good soldier--please--and I'm sure you have
not had your breakfast, and all good soldiers never neglect their
rations, not at the beginning of a war! Miss Galland, please--." Yes, as
he meant it, please be a good fellow.

She could not resist smiling at the charming manner of his plea. She
felt weak and strange--a little dizzy. Besides, her mother's voice now
came f