The last assault had met with no better success than had the attacks that
had gone before. True, the defenders had suffered considerably, for the
German fire had been accurate; but the losses of the French had been as
nothing compared with those of the Teutons.
This last assault had been more severe than the others. The Germans had
shown even greater tenacity and courage than before. In vain had their
officers sought to hold them to the attack. Once, twice, thrice had the
human sea surged against the farmhouse, only to be thrown back; so at
last the Germans had withdrawn.
Dead and wounded men strewed the floor. There were still some who had not
been touched by the bullets of the foe, but the majority of the defenders
of the top floor lay prone.
Hal shook his head sadly.
"Don't believe we can withstand another such charge," he said aloud.
"How long yet, sir?" asked the grizzled old veteran, Francois, who,
though he had kept his place at the window through the last attack, had
escaped the German bullets.
Again Hal gazed closely at his watch.
"Twelve minutes to go," he said quietly.
The face of Francois brightened.
"Then we are all right, sir," he said.
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