“That,” said Lieutenant Grant, breathing fast, “is Lieutenant Harry Hunt, of the Second. I never saw a braver deed.”
The roofs of the houses had been cleared well-nigh to the city wall. Lieutenant Hunt’s gun opened point blank upon the gateway battery. And listen! See! There was another great cheer—suddenly the roofs right against the wall on either side of the gate had upheaved, a torrent of blue caps and blue jackets spurted out like bursts of water, and broke white with a terrific fire into the gateway battery and even over the wall itself.
The battery was silenced in a moment as the gunners fell or frantically scuttled back through the arched passage. Lieutenant Hunt’s gun again belched grape. And here came the stormers, out from among the houses and down the road, yelling, firing, pouring through between the gate towers.
“The gate’s taken, and so is the city,” Lieutenant Grant rapped. “Come on, Fry. We’d better join our commands. Disassemble the piece, men, and report with it to Lieutenant Reno.”
He and Lieutenant Fry and Jerry tumbled below; ran for the road. The Fourth Infantry was well inside the gate; the men, breathless, laughing, peering, asking what next. Save for a few shots the place was singularly silent. General Worth arrived in haste.
“What regiment is this?”
“Fourth Infantry, sir.”
“God bless the Fourth Infantry. Where’s Major Lee? Hold your position, major; you will be supported.”
“B’gorry, first in, an’ here we stay,” cried old Sergeant Mulligan. “Hooray for the Fourth!”