all the way through."

"Hit the mark or leave the regiment!" voiced Captain Greg Holmes
enthusiastically.

"Be a one hundred per cent. officer, or get out of the service!"
agreed another comrade.

The tumult had already died down. The officers, from Lieutenant-Colonel
Graves down to the newest "shave-tail" or second lieutenant, acted
as by common impulse when they pivoted slowly about on their heels,
glancing at each other with earnest smiles.

"Gentlemen, our job has been cut out for us. We know the price
of success, and we know what failure would mean for us, personally
or collectively. Going over to quarters, Sands?"

Thrusting a hand through the arm of Major Sands, Lieutenant-Colonel
Graves started down the aisle. Little groups followed, and the
mess-room of that company barracks was speedily emptied.

Hard work, not age, had brought the gray frosting into the hair
of Colonel Cleaves; he was forty-seven years old, and not many
months before he had been only a major.

The time was early in September, in the year 1917. War had been
declared against Germany on April 6th. In the middle of July
the Ninety-o-ninth Infantry had been called into existence. Regiments
were then being added to the Regular Army. Two or three hundred
trained soldiers and several hundred recruits had made up the