“Draw—sabres!”
The air shrilled with the swish of steel.
Far down the road horsemen were galloping in—the returning pickets.
“Forward!”
They were moving.
“Steady—right dress!” taken up in turn by the company officers—“steady—right dress!”
The bandmaster swung his sabre forward; the mounted band followed.
Far away across the level fields something was stirring; the colonel saw it and turned in his saddle, scanning the column that moved forward on a walk.
Half a mile, and, passing a hill, an infantry regiment rose in the shallow trenches to cheer them. Instantly the mounted band burst out into “The Girl I Left Behind Me”; an electric thrill passed along the column.
“Steady! Steady! Right dress!” rang the calm orders as a wood, almost behind them, was suddenly fringed with white smoke and a long, rolling crackle broke out.