l, nearer, nearer, nearer, answered their
clangour.

"Hourra! Preussen!"

The deep, thundering shout rose hoarsely through the rifles'
roaring fusillade; horses reared; teamsters lashed and swore, and
the rattle of harness and wheel broke out and was smothered in
the sheeted crashing of the volleys and the shock of the coming
charge.

And now it burst like an ocean roller, smashing into the wagon
lines, a turmoil of smoke and flashes, a chaos of maddened,
plunging horses and bayonets, and the flashing downward strokes
of heavy sabres. Grahame seized the reins, and lashed his horses;
a cuirassier drove his bloody, foam-covered charger into the road
in front and fell, butchered by a dozen bayonets.

Three Uhlans followed, whirling their lances and crashing through
the lines, their frantic horses crazed by blows and wounds. More
cuirassiers galloped up; the crush became horrible. A horse and
steel-clad rider were hurled bodily under the wagon-wheels--an
Uhlan, transfixed by a bayonet, still clung to his shattered
lance-butt, screaming, staggering in his stirrups. Suddenly the
window of the post-chaise was smashed in and a horse and rider
pitched under the wheels, almost overturning carriage and
occupants.

"Easy, Marche!" shouted Grahame. "Don't try to get out!"

Jack heard him, but sprang into the road. For an instant he
reeled about in the crush and smoke, then, stooping, he seized a
prostrate man, lifted him, and with one tremendous effort pitched
him into the chaise.

Grahame, standing up in the driver's seat, watched him in
amazement for a moment; but his horses demanded all his attention
now, for they were backing under the pressure of the cart in
front.

As for Jack, once in the chaise again he pulled the unconscious
man to the seat, calling Lorraine to hold him up. Then he tore
the Uhlan's helmet from the stunned man's head and flung it out
into the road; after it he threw sabre and revolver.

"Give me that rug!" he cried to Lorraine, and he seized it and
wrapped it around the Uhlan's legs.

Grahame had managed to get clear of the other wagon now and was
driving out into the pasture, almost obscured by rifle smoke.

"Oh, Jack!" faltered Lorraine--"it is Rickerl!"

It was Rickerl, stunned by the fall from his horse, lying back
between them.

"They'd kill him if they saw his uniform!" muttered Jack. "Hark!
the French are cheering! They've repulsed the charge! Grahame, do
you hear?--do you hear?"