were apparently at the very edge of the trench, and then they were
further away than he had first seen them. The white gloom was shot with
a red haze, and the shouts of soldiers, the commands of officers and
groans of wounded were mingled in a terrible turmoil of sound. But John
knew that the Germans would be driven tack. Only surprise could have
enabled them to win, and the vigilance of the French scouts had put
their commanders on guard.

Captain Colton walked up and down the trench, his face ghastly white,
although it was the flare of the searchlight and not any retreat of the
blood that made it so. Now and then under the frightful crash of the
rifles and machine guns he addressed brief words of warning and
encouragement to his men:

"Don't raise your heads too high! Keep cool! Aim at something! Here they
come again! Fire low!"

All of John's pulses were throbbing hard with excitement. He wished the
Germans would go back, and his wish was prompted--less by the desire of
victory than the sickening of his soul at so much slaughter. Why would
their leaders continue to hurl these simple and honest peasants upon
that invincible line of rifles and machine guns? The dead and wounded
were piling up fast in the driving snow, but the willing servants of an
emperor came on as steadily as ever to be killed. So much slaughter for
so little purpose! The height of battle, excitement and danger, could
not keep him from thinking of it.

Occasionally a man fell in the trench and lay in the mud and snow, but
the others never ceased for a moment to send bullets into the gray
masses which fell back only to come on again. Nothing but modern