The ford was now fairly alive with moving figures, all pushing hurriedly toward the other shore, where not a German could be seen. The bushes in that quarter lay there as unassuming as though every one did not conceal a foe with ready rifle waiting for the order to come to pour in a terrific fire.
That was the picture Rod would often recall in days to come. It was stamped on his memory in imperishable colors–the bright sunlight, the hovering clouds of billowy powder smoke, the gay uniforms of the charging Frenchmen, the sombre, oppressive silence hovering over the opposite bank of the river–all these things had a part in the never-to-be-forgotten scene.
Then it seemed as though some volcano, long held in check, must have burst the confines of Nature in a mighty convulsion. From several points there came the thunderous discharge of batteries, while a thousand rifles added their sharper notes to the dreadful chorus.
And the men in the river, what of them?
Scores could be seen to throw up their arms and disappear, the current doubtless bearing them away. Others were forced to turn and start back to the shore they had so recently left, having been wounded more or less severely. Gaps appeared in the various groups, showing what terrible carnage those guns in the leading German battery had already executed.
Still the forward movement had not been as yet effectually stopped. Those who were thus far uninjured kept pushing ahead, even though they must realize that it was into the very jaws of death they advanced. And Rod found himself filled with sincere admiration for the bravery they exhibited. He had read of similar things many times, but seeing with his own eyes an exhibition of such wonderful valor was an entirely different matter.
Oh! how he hoped and prayed that in the end some of those Frenchmen might manage to reach the other shore which they aspired to gain. But when the German guns continued to roar and send torrents of iron hail into the ranks of the adventurous French it began to look very much as though not a single man might be able to accomplish the passage of the disputed ford.
Hanky Panky could stand it no longer. He rolled over and hid his face, while thrusting the forefinger of each hand as deeply into his ears as he could, evidently with the hope of shutting out all that dreadful noise.
Not so Josh, who, though very white, and trembling with excitement, still continued to stand there, drinking it all in eagerly, as one might something that was fairly intoxicating his senses.
The war drama did not last long. Under that murderous fire the French soldiers in the water fairly melted away. Some managed to return safely to the side of the stream held by their comrades, but by far the larger number seemed to have vanished. Further down the river they could be seen, some of them struggling in the water, with others floating along significantly still.