hanging over him. For his own safety he gave no care, but wherever Dick
stepped or turned, the groom was by his side, with his large, rough face
set in a look that was like that of a mastiff protecting its young.

As waves breaking against a rock, the Huns retreated, rallied, and
attacked again and again, and each time the resistance was less
formidable as the heroic little band grew smaller and the ugly story
passed that ammunition was giving out.

They had just thrown back an assault, and Van Derwater had sent for his
section commanders to advise an attack on the enemy in preference to
waiting to be wiped out with no chance of successful resistance, when he
heard a shout, and bullets spat over their heads. Turning swiftly about,
they saw a tank lurching across the bridge. Amidst wild shouting from
the Americans, the clumsy landship stumbled towards them, with bullets
glancing harmlessly off its metal carcass. Lumbering on to the road, the
tank stopped astride it.

In almost complete forgetfulness of the impending enemy attack, the
jubilant Americans crowded about the machine and cheered its occupants to
the echo, as a small door was opened and two French faces could be seen.
In a few words Van Derwater explained the situation, receiving the
discouraging information that no troops were anywhere near the vicinity.
The tank had been discovered by the ex-Belmont waiter and sent on to the
bridge.

'Pass word along,' said Van Derwater crisply, 'to prepare for an attack.
The tank will go first, and when it is astride their machine-gun position
we will go forward and drive them out of the brushwood into the
open.--Messieurs, the machine-guns are gathered there--straight across,
about forty yards from the great tree.'

The Frenchmen tried to locate the spot indicated, but were obviously
puzzled and too excited to listen attentively. Van Derwater was about to
repeat his instructions, when Dick Durwent shouldered his way into the
group. Men's voices were hushed at the sight of his blazing eyes.

In a bound he was on the bank, and stood exposed to the enemy's fire.
With something that was like a laugh and yet had an unearthly quality
about it, he threw his helmet off and stood bareheaded in the golden
sunlight. '_En avant, messieurs_!' he cried. '_Suivez-moi_!'

There was a grinding of the gears and a roar of machinery as the tank
reared its head and lunged after him.

'Stop that man, Selwyn!'

Van Derwater's v