The attack on Tiger Hill had occurred on Saturday, and that night it is safe to say nearly all of the soldiers on both sides were all but exhausted. Gilbert and Ben could scarcely stand, and the same was true of Major Okopa.
“I wonder if we’ll have to fight to-morrow,” said Ben, as they sat eating a very late supper.
“To be sure,” answered Gilbert. “Now we’ve got the Russians on the run it would be most unwise to let them rest.”
“It’s wonderful what our men can endure. Even the students seem to have iron constitutions.”
There was little sleep that night, and by dawn the call to arms was renewed. The command had been resting close to the top of Tiger Hill. Now it was ordered to take its place with the advance across the Ai River, which was to be forded in the face of the foe intrenched on the opposite shore.
The troops which had crossed by way of Kulido Island were close at hand, and just before the march to the river started Gilbert and Ben heard a call in a familiar voice, and beheld Dan Casey running towards them.
“Well, av all things,” cried the Irish sharpshooter, as he shook hands. “Sure an’ I didn’t expect to mate you in such a shpot as this!”
“How have you been, Casey?” questioned Gilbert.
“First-rate, barrin’ a scratch I got from a shell yesterday.” The Irishman’s eyes twinkled. “Sure an’ it was a regular Donnybrook fair, wasn’t it?”
“I should say it was—three Donnybrooks rolled into one,” laughed Ben. “But where is Stummer? Gilbert said he was with you.”