With the rapid pace made possible on Mars by the weak gravity, they covered the intervening distance in about two minutes.
The dull drumming of the enemy’s awakened fire was punctuated by occasional thuds near by as their bullets found marks in the onrushing column.
The Svergadians met a brief check as they encountered the outpost. Then onward they swept like a great wave upon the dismayed besiegers.
The growing flush in the east bathed the battlefield in pale rose, touched here and there with purple dusk. Overhead the fading stars twinkled faintly as if shrinking from this scene of wicked strife.
In spite of their surprize the enemy rallied to a stiff defense. They had the advantage of greatly superior numbers, and knew it. And Robert’s column had charged directly into the main body of their forces.
The morale of few armies, however, could have withstood the fanaticism with which the Svergadians charged that morning. Their long, slender bayonets flashed viciously as they plunged forward fearlessly again and again. Every man was fighting to avenge his princess, whom the leader of these men had abducted. The enemy was dismayed. They were given no time to rally. Surely these were fiends who attacked them with no care for their own lives! Dismay became consternation—rout!
In vain did the enemy’s officers struggle to stem the mad retreat. The front ranks turned in panic from the vicious line of steel, and stampeded over the troops supporting them.
Side by side fought Robert and Taggert. Long since, they had emptied their automatics. Armed with bayonet guns picked up from fallen Martians, they charged blindly with the rest. That they both continued unwounded in the foremost ranks was a miracle.
But the goddess of chance is a capricious deity. She selected a moment of comparative safety to strike. It came as Robert and Taggert were vigorously following up the rout.
“Keep them on the run, men,” shouted Robert, turning and setting the example.