ng, silently, swiftly, a marvelous whirlwind of force,
the Germans had rushed on. Swift, as though wind-driven, they moved. An
instant, and the Allies broke into violent movement. Half-clothed
sleepers poured out. Perfect discipline did the rest.

With marvelous and matchless swiftness and precision they got under arms.
There were but fifteen hundred or so in all--six squadrons of French
Lancers, the only French troops yet to reach Belgian soil, and a small
body of infantry, without artillery.

Yet, rapid as the action of the Allies was, it was not as rapid as the
downward sweep of the German horde that rushed to meet them.

There was a crash, as if rock were hurled upon rock, as the Lancers, the
flower of the French cavalry, scarce seated in the saddle, rushed forward
to save the pickets, to encounter the first blind ford of the attack and
to give the Belgian infantry, farther in, time to prepare for defense.

The hoofs of rearing chargers struck each other's breasts, and these bit
and tore at each other's throats and manes, while their riders reeled
down dead. The outer wings of the Germans were spared the shock, and
swept on to meet the bayonets of the infantry.

The cavalry was enveloped in the overwhelming numbers of the center. It
was a frightful tangling of men and brutes.

The Lancers could not charge; they were hemmed in, packed between bodies
of horsemen that pressed them together as between iron plates; now and
then they cut their way through clear enough to reach their comrades, but
as often as they did so, so often the overwhelming numbers of the Germans
surged in on them afresh like a flood, and closed upon them, and drove
them back.

It was bitter, stifling, cruel work; with their mouths choked with dust,
with their throats caked with thirst, with their eyes blind with smoke;
while the steel was thrust through nerve and sinew, or the shot plowed
through bone and flesh.

The answering fire of the infantry kept the Germans farther at bay, and
mowed them down faster--but in the Lancers' quarter of the field--parted
from the rest of their comrades, as they had been by the rush of that
broken charge with which they had sought to save the town and arrest the
foe--the worst pressure of the attack was felt, and the fiercest of the
slaughter fell.

The general in command of the cavalry had been shot dead as they had
first swept out to encounter the advance of the German horsemen; one by
one the officers