almost the last man in the charge, but not to his shame, rather to
his stumpy legs. At one time it seemed that the assault would be lost.
The effect of the fire was somewhat as if a terrible cyclone were
blowing in the men's faces. They wavered, lowering their heads and
shouldering weakly, as if it were impossible to make headway against the
wind of battle. It was the moment of despair, the moment of the heroism
which comes to the chosen of the war-god.

The colonel's cry broke and screeched absolute hatred; other officers
simply howled; and the men, silent, debased, seemed to tighten their
muscles for one last effort. Again they pushed against this mysterious
power of the air, and once more the regiment was charging. Timothy Lean,
agile and strong, was well in advance; and afterwards he reflected that
the men who had been nearest to him were an old grizzled sergeant who
would have gone to hell for the honour of the regiment, and a pie-faced
lad who had been obliged to lie about his age in order to get into the
army.

There was no shock of meeting. The Twelfth came down on a corner of the
trenches, and as soon as the enemy had ascertained that the Twelfth was
certain to arrive, they scuttled out, running close to the earth and
spending no time in glances backward. In these days it is not discreet
to wait for a charge to come home. You observe the charge, you attempt
to stop it, and if you find that you can't, it is better to retire
immediately to some other place. The Rostina soldiers were not heroes,
perhaps, but they were men of sense. A maddened and badly-frightened mob
of Kickers came tumbling into the trench, and shot at the backs of
fleeing men. And at that very moment the action was won, and won by the
Kickers. The enemy's flank was entirely crippled, and, knowing this, he
did not await further and more disastrous information. The Twelfth
looked at themselves and knew that they had a record. They sat down and
grinned patronisingly as they saw the batteries galloping to advance
position to shell the retreat, and they really laughed as the cavalry
swept tumultuously forward.

The Twelfth had no more concern with the battle. They had won it, and
the subsequent proceedings were only amusing.

There was a call from the flank, and the men wearily adjusted themselves
as General Richie, stern and grim as a Roman, looked with his straight
glance at a hammered and thin and dirty line of figures, which was His
Majesty's