"Right, sir," said the sturdy little fellow, crawling forward. He wriggled like a snake right up to the wires. Click! went his cutters through one strand, click! through [pg 238] another, and up went his arm to get a strand higher up. All the while he was under a terrible fire. Just as he cut the third strand a bullet struck his arm. It fell limp and shattered. With wonderful fortitude he adjusted his body and cut the fourth strand with his other hand. Zip! sang a bullet again. It went right through his head. He rolled over dead.
Lieutenant Longlegs saw it all, and looked round for another man. But he had no need to shout. A young lance-corporal jumped over a wall and crawled up to the wires. Seizing the dead man's cutters he coolly commenced to cut right and left. Bullets whizzed around,—they even passed through his cap and clothes,—but still he went on, making a great gap in the strands of wires. He was succeeding splendidly when a bullet struck the wire-cutters, smashed them, and pierced his right hand. At once he lay low, tore out his field dressing, bandaged his hand, then commenced to crawl back to his lines. He got half-way when a bullet struck him in the spine. A weird yell told all of his fate.
"By God," muttered Longlegs, "that's too brave a lad to leave out there." He [pg 239] jumped over the wall, and, heedless of the fire, ran forward, picked up his man and brought him into the shelter of his line. A great cheer went up as he returned. Longlegs had asserted his pluck.
This success at cutting the wires inspired many more to go forward. In three hours five good gaps had been made, and the way paved for a final assault. Meantime Major Tartan had arrived in the firing line with the reserves. He opened a fierce fusilade and accounted for almost a hundred of the enemy. Having done all that was possible at that point he passed the word along, "Prepare to charge." Bayonets were fixed, and every eye centred on the tough figure of the old Highland Chief. Like a deer he rose, and, raising his arm, shouted, "Up, lads, and at them." What a din! Four hundred gallants running, yelling, cursing, and panting. Through the gaps in the wire they rushed, leaving many on the way. Things were going well till a bullet struck the old major in a vital part. He fell mortally wounded. The sight checked the whole advance. His eyes saw the pause.
"Go on, men—give them it—never mind——" and he rolled back dead. Hardup [pg 240] and Longlegs now called them on. With a mighty rush they scaled the great redoubt and leapt down into the ranks of the Germans. Some of the Teutons fought gamely; others cowered back, listless and powerless, an awful fear and awe in their eyes. The sight chilled the men, but a bloodthirsty old sergeant shouted, "Remember the Belgian atrocities, boys." That was enough. They bayoneted every man on the spot. During this bloody combat the machine guns and snipers in the house were pumping out volleys of death.
"Take the house now, men," roared Hardup.
"By God, we'll soon do that," answered Muldoon, the worst character in the regiment. Running forward to the walls this powerful man got near the mouth of a Maxim gun projecting through the wall. With a terrible swipe he smashed the end of the tube, breaking his butt at the job. Another man did the same for the other gun, while the remainder of the men made for the doors. A check happened here. The doors were barred and the enemy firing furiously from within.
"Smash it in," ordered Hardup, standing [pg 241] near. Three men sprang forward. First they smashed the protruding rifle barrels and then they tackled the doors. In ten minutes great holes were made. Captain Hardup was the first man through. Longlegs followed at his heels. The captain pinned a great big German with his bayonet, but another of the enemy stuck the gallant officer right through the chest. Longlegs had just got in when he saw his captain fall. Jumping forward he clubbed the man's brains out. The remaining Germans cleared up a stair to the next floor. This gave a breathing space and time to get more men through. When enough had been collected Longlegs led the way. Another barred door was found. Willing hands quickly ended this, and into a room Longlegs and his men dashed. The enemy stood at the end of the room with bayonets fixed.
"Come on, lads—wipe them out." Forward they went. There was a terrific tussle for five minutes. Longlegs had the muscle of his arm torn away with a bayonet, while three of his men were killed on the spot; but every German was bayoneted to death. Longlegs had his arm hastily bandaged. "Come on," he shouted again, and up to the [pg 242] top flat they rushed to end their job. There they found a German officer and a host of men inside a loft. The door of the place was also barred. But this was easily smashed, and into the den the gallants rushed. As they went an old sergeant pushed Longlegs back out of danger.
"What's wrong?" he inquired angrily.