ung commanding officer know that he would not lose
half his men by ambushed fire while crossing that open space?

CHAPTER XII

THE BROWN MEN AT BAY----FOR HOW LONG?

If Sergeant Hal, or any other soldier in that detachment of sixty men,
had felt any nervousness before the fight started, everyone of them had
forgotten it by this time.

So far, not a man had they lost, and none had been even lightly hit. The
bravery of soldiers is usually founded on their confidence in their
officers. Every man in the detachment now knew that Lieutenant Richard
Prescott was an officer who would do all that lay before him to do, yet
an officer who would not needlessly sacrifice the life or safety of any
man in his command. That discovery by the men goes far to make an
officer capable. Let the men once think their commander careless about
slaughter, and they will not respond as quickly.

"Men," presently spoke the young officer, as coolly and slowly as though
he were explaining a manoeuvre in his once favorite game of football,
"we have now to reach the house yonder, and there's a likelihood of our
being fired upon when we move forward. When I give the order you'll run
slowly, at the gait set by Sergeant Overton, who will be ahead of you.
If you hear the command to lie down, drop in your tracks. But let no
man lie down until he hears the word. We may have to employ half a dozen
rushes in reaching the house. Rise! Sergeant Overton to the front.
Forward! Charge!"

Steadily and gallantly the little line swept forward. Hal Overton, who
knew the pace exactly, went forward at a trot that did not vary by as
much as a step to the minute.

In the distance half a dozen rifles popped out singly. Some of the
bullets whistled by, others struck the ground near them, ploughing up
the dirt.

If any soldier looked for Lieutenant Prescott to order them down, he was
in error. Another hundred yards they covered. Then a volley rang out
from the men hidden in the grove, and Private Danes dropped, though
without a cry.

"Lie down!" shouted Prescott steadily, though he remained with his field
glass to his eyes, searching the grove. "Sergeant Overton, see how badly
Danes is hurt."

Hal strode over to where the wounded man lay.

"Oh, it ain't nothing, Sarge," growled Private Danes disgustedly. "Just
enough to give me a toothache in the hip."

Yet the poor fellow pointed to a bloodstained spot right over the center
of the hip bone. Danes's lef