ave felt his body rending to
pieces as he looked where a shell burst in the midst of a trench, and
heard the filthy squelch and sharp cries above the roar, and saw the
awful faces through the red glare and curtain of smoke, and the mangled
corpses of dead bodies hurled high in the air.

It would make a thrilling scene for some great war drama. The history of
war has had few situations as thrilling as this day's battle.

The artillery "let itself go" again and it was impossible to stand on
that hillside, so fiercely was the breath of the shells blasting across
it in hot, staggering gusts, the tall dry grass bending before it, and
the air filled with flying debris, which followed in the wake of a shell
in little circling whirlwinds. Skimming but a few feet over the heads of
the American fighting line, the shells would burst upon the trenches or
on the ground below them, when attackers were so close to attacked that
the gush of oily smoke hid both, and both the death yell and the yell of
triumph were mingled in one mighty shout and ceaseless roaring.

THE ENEMY'S COLORS FALL.

Boom! went the little war dogs, then boom,--boom--boom--boom, in quick
succession, and then the wall crumbled, vanished in parts, and lo!
behold! the flags were down! Their crimson colors were dangling in mid
air for an instant, then were caught in the shower of a bursting
shrapnel and hurled to the ground.

Oh! the grandeur of that last few moments' bombardment! Not a shell went
astray; the parapet received them all full in the face. In one great
explosion the Moros stood and fired, in one atmosphere of blasted air
and filthy fumes, in one terrible shadow of the coming darkness, in one
continual earthquake. They seemed to go mad, as well they might, for
annihilation loomed in the distance for those who yet remained. As the
soldiers of America drew nearer, many of the Moros actually leaped from
their cover on to the top of the parapet and were seen against the sky
background, wildly firing down at the advancing troops, in the very
midst of the bursting shells.

Hell was surely let loose on those dusky fanatics who manned the
portholes of Pandapatan. Truly, war _is_ hell!

They fought with a fanatical frenzy, but nothing on earth could stop
that line of advancing, invincible soldiers. Up they went, until at
last, it became necessary for the artillery to cease firing.

The troops reached the very walls, and there remained, for entrance was
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