Part 29 (1/2)

At the crest of the parapet the lines, attack and defense met with a ring of steel. Bayonets flashed, darted, parried and struck. Rifle b.u.t.ts whirled above bare heads and the stocks crashed down through bone and flesh. From both sides came a rain of hand grenades, bombs which exploded upon touch. From the rear of the trenches there came running formed troops, to a.s.sist in the repulse of the Russians, and as the supporting lines of the attack threw themselves into the fray, the whirling, struggling, fighting lines on the trenches' top thickened and swayed.

The line sagged, bulged, trembled, and broke in huge gaps. Into the splaying breaches there rushed fresh troops from front and rear, and the lines thickened and swayed again. Men discarded their arms to lock in one another's embrace, fighting to the last.

The din was deafening, yet above it there rang out the detonation and shock of a great explosion, where a delayed mine belched upward under the pressure of the hastening troops coming up with the attacking reserve. Earth, stones, wire entanglements, arms and men shot upward in a dense geyser of death, and came down in the midst of the fierce fighting.

Then the line broke again, and the shattered reserves of the attack, summoning the last resources, poured into the breach with bayonet and magazine.

The defense gave way.

Crumpled under the last despairing hurling of last reserves, the entrenched line shuddered along its length, then the line lost its cohesion, stood irresolute for a moment, then fled precipitately to the rear.

The whistles of the Russian officers blew again and again. Officers had fallen until corporals and sergeants commanded platoons and companies; yet they, too, had their whistles and knew their duties; and out of the scramble of the attack, regardless of company, regiment or brigade, the Russians fell into rough line, knelt, and opened fire upon the routed enemy, while the supporting batteries dashed to the trenches, unlimbered and belched fire and iron into the fleeing ma.s.s.

The standards of the Russians, which had changed hands a dozen times, during the course of the a.s.sault, were planted on the works; the troops themselves, exhausted and spent by the might and fury of their efforts, threw themselves into tired heaps as other brigades came up to hold the position.

The trenches were won!

CHAPTER XX.

THE DEATH OF A FRIEND.

Hal, Chester and Alexis had been in the midst of the fray, where the fighting was the thickest. Not in the first line of attack, they had advanced with the first reserves. And beside them, snapping, biting and snarling, strode Marquis.

Now the herculean prowess of the giant Cossack stood them all in good stead. More than once Hal or Chester would have gone down, or been trampled under foot by the troops behind, had not the quick eye of Alexis signaled out their danger and his powerful arm come to their aid.

Guarding himself perfectly from the sword and bayonet thrusts of the enemy, after the fighting became hand to hand, the Cossack fought like a madman, as did others of his race, hurling himself upon his foes with almost superhuman ferocity.

For the first time the two lads had the experience of digging trenches as they advanced upon the enemy, and in spite of the fact that they were officers, they did not s.h.i.+rk the work. Just before reaching the parapet, the first line of reserves--to which the friends were attached--joined the original first line and sprang into the trenches together.

There they fought with desperation. Not a word was exchanged between them, although they fought side by side. There was no time for conversation. The press was too thick, and death too near.

But now that the Germans had turned to flee, the Russians sent up a wild cry of triumph. Hal, Chester and Alexis rested upon their weapons, watching the troops pour a hail of lead into the flying foe. Marquis advanced several paces ahead of the farthest Russian troops, stood up on his hind legs and let out a bark of joy. Bullets flew around him, and Chester, realizing the dog's danger, whistled sharply. Marquis turned and wagged his tail at his friend, and opened his mouth in one more joyful bark.

It was at that moment that a German bullet struck him. Without a sound the n.o.ble animal crumpled up and fell to the ground. The ball had pierced his throat. But life was not extinct. Marquis struggled to his feet, and dragged himself toward Hal and Chester, who, having seen him fall, dashed toward him.

Gently Chester lifted Marquis' heavy weight up in his arms, holding him so that the blood would not flow so rapidly from the gaping wound in his throat. Marquis looked up into the lad's face, and uttered a low, painful bark. His tail wagged.

Quickly the lads hurried back to Alexis and as quickly sought out a surgeon. Chester laid Marquis gently on the ground, and the surgeon bent over him. After a brief examination he arose and shook his head.

”No hope,” he said quietly. ”The bullet pierced his jugular vein.”

”Isn't there something you can do?” pleaded Chester, tears streaming down his face.

The surgeon shook his head sadly.

”Nothing,” he said, and hurried away.

Chester picked Marquis up again, and followed by Hal and Alexis, made his way toward the rear, where the troops were more scattered, and where there was none to bother them. Hal drew off his coat, and Chester laid the dog on it.

Marquis did not whimper. He, as well as his three friends, seemed to know that death was not far off, and he was prepared to meet the end bravely, as a soldier-dog should. He turned slightly and licked Chester's hand that lay upon his head. Chester patted him gently, but he was beyond words.