The veterans muttered--"Three deep." Though it looked stationary, it got blacker and blacker.

The soldiers of the 24th brigade griped their muskets hard, and set their teeth, and the sergeants had much ado to keep them quiet.
All of a sudden, a loud yell on the right of the brigade, two or three single shots from the trenches in that direction, followed by a volley, the cries of wounded men, and the fierce hurrahs of an attacking party.
Our colonel knew too well those sounds: the next parallel had been surprised, and the Prussian bayonet was now silently at work.
Disguise was now impossible.

At the first shot, a guttural voice in front of Dujardin's men was heard to give a word of command.

There was a sharp rattle and in a moment the thick black line was tipped with glittering steel.
A roar and a rush, and the Prussian line three deep came furiously like a huge steel-pointed wave, at the French lines.

A tremendous wave of fire rushed out to meet that wave of steel: a crash of two hundred muskets, and all was still.