But the door was of stout oak, and though it seemed on the point of giving under each succeeding blow, it still held.  Hoarse guttural cries from without indicated that the Germans were becoming impatient to get at the French within.  Came an extra violent crash and the door suddenly gave way.  Three Germans, who had been leaning against the door, caught off their balance, were precipitated headlong into the room.  It was unfortunate—­for them.

Before they could scramble to their feet, the French had placed them beyond all hopes of further fighting.  Their days of war were over.

But other Germans poured into the door behind them and leaped forward over the prostrate forms of their comrades.  Calmly, the ten French soldiers, far back against the wall and a little to one side, so as to be out of direct line of fire from the open doorway, fired into the surging mass of humanity.  And their fire was deadly and effective.  In almost less time than it takes to tell it the doorway was choked with German dead.

It was a gruesome sight and even the French soldiers, used as they were to such spectacles, shuddered inwardly.  It seemed foolhardy for the enemy to seek entrance to the house through that blocked door.  Even the Germans realized it and would have drawn back but for the fact that their officers, farther back, urged them on with cries and imprecations.

Again there was a concerted rush for the door.

The pile of prostrate German forms served as a shield for the defenders and behind this barrier of bodies the men took their posts and poured a withering fire into the ranks of the attackers.  This deadly fire was more than the Germans could face, and in spite of the frantic efforts of their officers, they drew off.

“I didn’t think they could make it,” shouted Captain Leroux.  “Good work, men!”

A cheer went up from the defenders.  But the men knew the calibre of these German veterans and they realized that the attack had not been given up.  They knew that the Germans, with their superior numbers, would not desist and that eventually they must be overwhelmed.

“Two hours!” Captain Leroux had said.

Hardly a quarter of that time had flown and in it had been crowded desperate work that well would have been enough for the day.  The men were tired, but they were not willing to admit it.  Each had told himself that he would die at his post rather than surrender.

There came a lull in the fighting.

To the war-seasoned veterans of France this lull told a story of its own.  It presaged a new and more violent attempt on the part of the Germans to force the farmhouse.  Captain Leroux knew it.  So did Hal and Chester, and at their various stations they gave quick commands to their men.

Taking care not to expose himself too much, he gazed from the window.  His action did not even bring a shot.  This increased the lad’s suspicions.