Bann called across the road to Knudsen. “What have you seen?” He answered “Nothing.”
Said the captain, “After the next rush I shall send your whole squad across. Forward now to the line of that row of apple trees ahead.” And at Barm’s “Follow me!” we slipped ahead not merely to the line of three old trees, but also to the position of the waiting motor, which was just abreast of us. While the rest of the company slipped forward to our line, I took a satisfying look at the girls. Frances saw me, and we smiled. Vera was absolutely intent on something behind me, of course the captain. And still not a shot from the flank-guard in front, I think a sleepy platoon under a sergeant. We chuckled. But then a gun went off in our line somewhere on the right. We swore. Ahead of us the enemy broke into a crackle of gunfire, not very heavy.
In it, so few were the guns that were firing, I clearly distinguished, among the short dull explosions of the blanks we know so well, a sharp and angry crack, followed by a tearing snap right over my head.
Surprised, I yet recognized the noise of the passage of a bullet. A second time!—and then, familiar as I am with the legend of the clip of ball cartridges, I instantly knew it to be true. And again—Crack-snap! I heard the old colonel crying to the ladies, “Down!”
Then a long blast of the captain’s whistle. I knew he was on his feet behind me, then heard his voice through the sputter of fire that was beginning from our own line. “Cease firing!” Over my shoulder I looked at him, a fine manly figure in the attitude of command, one hand stretched threateningly toward the line in front.
Then, as the roar of our guns burst out on the right, his hat flew backward, I saw blood start out on his temple, and as if an axe had struck him, he was down!
Quickly as I was on my feet, someone was quicker. A flash of white went past me, and there was Vera on her knees, gathering into her lap the head of the fallen man. I heard her little moaning cry.
In the few moments that followed I stood stupidly helpless. Our fire stopped suddenly, as the sergeants enforced the captain’s command. The fire stopped in front. In the little circle of the branches of the old tree we were quiet as—yes, as the grave. Vera, holding the captain’s head fiercely close, looked wildly round for help. It was Frances who slipped by me and with her handkerchief wiped away the blood that stood upon the temple.
Oh, the relief! A long red bruise showed where the bullet had passed.
And then he opened his eyes. Vera, looking down on him, said quite simply, “Are you all right, Allan?”