If anything
would convince me that I have to fight this war-alone--I--" Westerling
choked in irritation.

"Yes. The ground is such that it is a tactically safe and advantageous
move for Lanstron to make. He strikes at the vitals of our machine."

"But what about the remainder of the force that made the charge? What
about all our guns concentrated in front of Engadir?"

"I was coming to that. The rout of the assaulting column was much worse
than we had supposed. Those who are strong enough cannot be got to
reform. Many were so exhausted that they dropped in their tracks. Our
guns are at this moment in retreat--or being captured by the rush of the
Browns' infantry. Your Excellency, the crisis is sudden, incredible."

"Our wire service has broken down. We cannot communicate with many of
our division commanders," put in Bellini, the chief of intelligence.

"Yes, our organization, so dependent on communication, is in danger of
disruption," concluded Turcas. "To avoid disorder, we think it best to
retreat across the plain to our own range."

At the word "retreat" Westerling sprang to his feet, his cheeks purple,
the veins of his neck and temples sculptured as he took a threatening
step toward the group, which fell back before the physical rage of the
man, all except the vice-chief, his mouth a thin, ashy line, who held
his own.

"You cowards!" Westerling thundered. "Retreat when we have five millions
to their three!"

"We have not that odds now," replied the parchment voice. "All their men
are engaged. They have caught us at a disadvantage, unable to use our
numbers except in detail in trying to hold on in face of--"

"I tell you we cannot retreat!" Westerling interrupted. "That is the
end. I know what you do not know. I am in touch with the government.
Yes, I know--"

This brought fresh alarm into faces which had become set in grim
stoicism by many alarms. If the people were in ignorance of the losses
and the army in ignorance of the nation's feeling, the officers of the
staff were no less in ignorance of what passed over the long-distance
wire between the chief of staff and the premier.

"I know what is best--I alone!" Westerling continued, driving home his
point. "Tell our commanders to hold. Neither general nor man is to
budge. They are to stick to the death. Any one who does not I shall
hold up to public shame as a poltroon. Who knows but Lanstron's attack
may be a council of desperation? The Browns may be w