Suddenly from either side of the English troops came a thundering volley.  Taken by surprise, the British halted suddenly, while men tumbled to the earth on every hand.

Before the officer in command could give the order to fall back, a force of Germans was hurled into their rear, completely cutting them off from any possible hope of aid from that direction.  A thousand men were in this little force now completely surrounded.

But the officer in command of the British was not of the caliber to surrender.  He was a typical son of Albion, a fighting man, none other than Captain Harry Anderson, whose part in the expedition across the Marne had raised him to that rank.

Advancing with his command, he soon found himself the ranking officer still on his feet.  Hal and Chester, who the night before had shared his quarters, at the call to arms had plunged into the thick of the conflict alongside the gallant captain.  In spite of the terrific carnage, in spite of the shot and shell that fell about them, they had so far escaped injury.

Perceiving that retreat was cut off, Captain Anderson conceived a possible escape.  With a loud cry of “Forward!” to his men, he dashed right into the face of a terrible rifle and artillery fire.

Men dropped as though mowed down by the wind, but the little column halted not.  They had spread out, fan-wise, at the command of Captain Anderson, to avoid as much as possible the sweeping fire of the Germans, and they now pressed forward at a run.

Completely surprised at this sudden charge by the little body of men, that the German officers evidently believed entirely in their power, and still more surprised by their desperate offense in the face of overwhelming odds, the Germans, for a moment, gave way.

That moment was enough for the success of Captain Anderson’s strategy.  At the point of the bayonet the British burst through the German line, dealing out death on every hand as they did so.  A moment and the Germans rallied, but it was too late.

The British were now through the barrier of steel, and had taken refuge behind a little ridge.  And now the reason for the captain’s sudden charge became apparent.

Directly ahead was a large house, and for this refuge the British dashed madly.  The first man to reach the door tried the knob.  The door was locked.  From behind came the plod of the heavy German feet and the sharp crack of rifles.

There was not a moment to lose.  With a swift blow of his rifle butt, the British soldier smashed in the door, and into this opening the troops poured.  A second squad had dashed around to the rear of the house and performed a similar operation.  In less time than it takes to tell it injured and uninjured alike were in the house.  The ground outside, however, was strewn with their companions.

Quickly every window in the house was manned, the doors barred.  And the British stood silently awaiting the approach of the enemy, which they knew would come in a very few minutes.