emy.

In a moment of lull Bill dragged a wounded man off the embankment at
Kars' side. Kars withdrew his searching gaze from the dark beyond.

"How's things?" he demanded. His voice was thick with a parching
thirst.

"He's the fifth."

Bill's reply was preoccupied. Kars was thinking only of the defence.

"Bully!" he exclaimed. It was the appreciation of the fighter. He had
no thought for anything else. "We'll get 'em hunting their holes by
daylight," he went on. Then suddenly he turned back. His rifle was
ready, and he spoke over his shoulder.

"There's just one thing better than chasing the long trail, Bill. It's
scrap."

With a fierce yell a dusky form leaped out of the darkness. He sprang
at the embankment with hatchet upraised. Kars' rifle greeted him and
he fell in his tracks.

Bill shouldered his wounded burden. A grim smile struggled to his lips
as he bore it away. Nor did his muttered reply reach his now
preoccupied friend.

"And we cuss the poor darn neche for a savage."

It was midnight before the final convulsions of the great storming
assaults showed a waning. The first signs were the lengthening
intervals between the rushes. Then gradually the rushes lessened in
determination and only occasionally did they come to close quarters.
To Kars the signs were the signs he looked for. They were to him the
signs of first victory. But no vigilance was relaxed. The stake was
far too great. None knew better than he the danger of relaxing effort
under the assurance of success. And so the straining eyes of the
defence were kept wide.

Minutes crept by, passed under a desultory fire from the distance. The
bullets whistled widely overhead, doing no damage to life. The time
lengthened into half an hour and still no fresh assault came. Kars
stirred from his place. He wiped the muck sweat from his forehead, and
passed down the line of embankment to where Abe Dodds held command.

"We got to get the boys fed coffee and sow-belly," he said.

Abe with his watchful eyes on the distance replied reluctantly.

"Guess we'll have to."

Kars nodded.

"I sent word to the cook-house. Pass 'em along in reliefs. There's no
figgerin' on the next jolt. We can't take chances--yet."

"We'll have to--later."

Again Kars nodded.

"That's how I figger. But we got to get through this night first.
There's no chances this night. Pass your men along easy. Hold 'em up
on the least sign of things