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It was all that they could do to get the guns up the rise aided

by the infantry, and having reached the village of Gruntersdorf

they halted. It had grown so dark that one could not distinguish

the uniforms ten paces off, and the firing had begun to subside.

Suddenly, near by on the right, shouting and firing were again

heard. Flashes of shot gleamed in the darkness. This was the last

French attack and was met by soldiers who had sheltered in the

village houses. They all rushed out of the village again, but

Tushin's guns could not move, and the artillerymen, Tushin, and

the cadet exchanged silent glances as they awaited their fate.

The firing died down and soldiers, talking eagerly, streamed out

of a side street.

"Not hurt, Petrov?" asked one.

"We've given it 'em hot, mate! They won't make another push now,"

said another.

"You couldn't see a thing. How they shot at their own fellows!

Nothing could be seen. Pitch-dark, brother! Isn't there something

to drink?"