The reserves elevated their guns, firing at the upper windows, while those chosen for the assault leaped forward, yelling as they came.

I scarcely had time to cry a warning, and to hear the echoing shouts of Miles and Mahoney, before the gray line was on the gravel.

It was then we struck them, every window and door bursting into flame simultaneously, the deadly lead poured into their very faces.

We worked like fiends, the smoke suffocating, firing as rapidly as we could lay hands to weapons, seeing nothing but the dim outline of gray-clad men, surging madly toward us, or hurled back by the flame of our guns.

It was hell, pandemonium, a memory blurred and indistinct; men, stricken to death, whirled and fell, others ran screaming; they stumbled over prostrate bodies, and cursed wildly in an effort to advance.