tween his fastened teeth.

Sponge could only gurgle: "The battery--the battery--the battery!"

"The battery?" cried Richie, in a voice which sounded like pistol shots.
"Are you afraid of the guns you almost took yesterday? Go back there,
you white-livered cowards! You swine! You dogs! Curs! Curs! Curs! Go
back there!"

Most of the men halted and crouched under the lashing tongue of their
maddened general. But one man found desperate speech, and yelled:
"General, it is our own battery that is firing on us!"

Many say that the General's face tightened until it looked like a mask.
The Kicking Twelfth retired to a comfortable place, where they were only
under the fire of the Rostina artillery. The men saw a staff officer
riding over the obstructions in a manner calculated to break his neck
directly.

The Kickers were aggrieved, but the heart of the colonel was cut in
twain. He even babbled to his major, talking like a man who is about to
die of simple rage. "Did you hear what he said to me? Did you hear what
he called us? _Did you hear what he called us?_"

The majors searched their minds for words to heal a deep wound.

The Twelfth received orders to go into camp upon the hill where they had
been insulted. Old Sponge looked as if he were about to knock the aide
out of the saddle, but he saluted, and took the regiment back to the
temporary companionship of the Rostina dead.

Major-General Richie never apologised to Colonel Sponge. When you are a
commanding officer you do not adopt the custom of apologising for the
wrong done to your subordinates. You ride away; and they understand, and
are confident of the restitution to honour. Richie never opened his
stern, young lips to Sponge in reference to the scene near the hill of
the Rostina dead, but in time there was a general order No. 20, which
spoke definitely of the gallantry of His Majesty's 12th regiment of the
line and its colonel. In the end Sponge was given a high decoration,
because he had been badly used by Richie on that day. Richie knew that
it is hard for men to withstand the shrapnel of their friends.

A few days later the Kickers, marching in column on the road, came upon
their friend the battery, halted in a field; and they addressed the
battery, and the captain of the battery blanched to the tips of his
ears. But the men of the battery told the Kickers to go to the
devil--frankly, freely, placidly, told the Kickers to go to the devil.

And this story