ux of their effort. War's
own mesmerism had made her forget Feller and everything except the
gamble, the turn of the card, while the gray figures kept stumbling on
over their fallen. Then her heart leaped, a cry in a gust of short
breaths broke from her lips as the Browns let go a rasping, explosive,
demoniacal cheer. The first attack had been checked!

After triumph, terror, faintness, and a closing of her eyes, she opened
them to see Feller, with his old straw hat--brim torn and crownless
now--still on his head, rise from the debris and shake himself like a
dog coming ashore from a swim. While the engineers hastened to repair
the breach he assisted Stransky, who had also been knocked down by the
concussion, to lift the overturned automatic off the gunner. The doctor,
putting a hand on the gunner's heart, shook his head, and two
hospital-corps men removed the body to make room for the engineers.

Dellarme could now spare attention from the charge of the Gray infantry
to observe the results of the shell fire. With the gunner dead, he
looked for the gunner's assistant, who lay several feet distant. As
Dellarme and the doctor hastened to him he raised himself to a sitting
posture and looked around in dazed inquiry. The doctor poured a cup of
brandy from his flask and held it to the assistant's lips, whereon he
blinked and nodded his head in personal confirmation of the fact that
he was still alive. But when he tried to raise his right arm the hand
would not join in the movement. His wrist was broken.

For once Dellarme's cheery smile deserted him. There was no one left to
man the automatic, so vital in the defence, and even if somebody could
be found the gun was probably out of commission. As he started toward it
his smile, already summoned back, was shot with surprise at sight of the
gun in place and a stranger in blue blouse, white hair showing through a
crownless straw hat, trying out the mechanism with knowing fingers.
Dellarme stared. Feller, unconscious of everything but the gun, righted
the cartridge band, swung the barrel back and forth, and then fired a
shot.

"You--you seem to know rapid-firers!" Dellarme exclaimed in blank
incomprehension.

"Yes, sir!" Feller raised his finger, whether in salute as a soldier or
as a gardener touching his hat it was hard to say.

"But how--where?" gasped Dellarme.

This time the movement of the finger was undoubtedly in salute, in
perfect, swift, military salute, with he