It was the sharp command of the lieutenant in immediate charge of the detachment including Jimmy Blaise and his comrades.
"Forward! Forward!" was yelled on every side.
The din continued—increased. It seemed as though there could be nothing left whole on earth again; in all that riot of noise and blood—as though everything must be rent to pieces.
"Are you all right!" cried Jimmy in the ear of Roger.
"Yes. Not scratched yet. How about—"
A loud explosion to one side cut off his words in a blast, but Jimmy knew what his chum wanted to say. When there was a momentary lull he answered:
"Iggy's gone!"
"Gone?"
"Yes. I had a glimpse of him being blown back—his face was all red—bloody."
Roger could not repress a shudder. But there was no time for any thoughts like these. He had a glimpse of Bob Dalton and Franz Schnitzel stumbling toward him and Jimmy. Then came a sharp command: