had been cut down, singled out by the keen eyes of their
enemy, and throwing themselves into the deadliest of the carnage with
impetuous self-devotion characteristic of their service.

At the last there remained but a bare handful of the brilliant squadrons
of 600 men that had galloped down in the gray of dawn to meet the
whirlwind of German fury. At their head was Captain Derevaux, and beside
him rode Hal.

It was not the gallant captain's fault that Hal was thus in the thick of
the battle. This had been an accident, and had come about in this manner:

Late the night before Hal and Chester had been called to the quarters of
the commanding general and dispatched on separate missions. Their ways
led past the outposts--even beyond the farthest--where the six squadrons
of French Lancers and a small body of infantry had been thrown out, under
orders, to make a reconnaissance in force in the morning. Advancing
beyond this line, Hal had turned east and Chester west.

His mission accomplished, Hal had just reached the Allies' line upon his
return, when the Germans bore down on them. Hal saw that his one chance
for safety lay in throwing in his fortunes with the troops.

Accordingly he turned his horse, just as the Lancers swept past on their
first charge, and reined in beside Captain Derevaux. The latter had
recognized the danger and realized that the boy's keen wit had detected
his one hope of life. He had greeted him with a smile; nor had he blamed
him for his choice.

And so Hal had swept forward in the charge. Seizing a sword from a
falling trooper, Hal, riding at the captain's side, was soon in the thick
of the terrible carnage, and, in spite of the terrible fighting, had
escaped injury.

Two horses had been killed under Captain Derevaux. Twice he had thrown
himself across fresh, unwounded chargers, whose riders had fallen in the
fray, and at whose bridles he caught as he shook himself free of the dead
animal's stirrups. His head was uncovered; his uniform, hurriedly thrown
on, had been torn aside, and his chest was bare; he was drenched with
blood, not his own, that had rained on him as he fought, and his face and
hands were black with smoke and with powder.

Hal could not see a yard in front of him; he could not tell how the day
went anywhere save in that corner where the Lancers were hemmed in. As
fast as they beat the enemy back, and forced themselves to some clearer
space, the Germans closed in afresh.

No