Along about two o'clock in the afternoon matters began to look blue--even a general officer who had fought in many hard battles of the Civil War, and spent the best years of his life combating the Indians on the frontier, was overheard to mutter to his adjutant that he was "afraid we've bitten off more'n we can chew." There was not a cheerful face to be seen. Men with grinding teeth were soberly looking Death in the face. Sir Orthodox was burrowing his face into Mother Earth in a wild effort to shield himself from Mauser bullets. A German corporal was doing the same thing about fifty feet further down the road. As the corporal, better known as "Dutch," was burrowing his face in the mud, an idea struck him, and, like all Teutons, he must make it known. He raised his head and looked up and down the line of prostrate soldiers till his eye fell on the flattened figure of the minister. In a voice that could be heard the full length of the regiment, he bleated out: "Say, dere, Sky Pilots, id aind so schveet to died for vonce countries, aind id?" The effect was magical. Amid this scene of carnage and death a wild yell of merriment went up that brought courage to many weakening hearts, and Caney had fallen before the men had ceased to laugh at the joke on the preacher. THE MULE THAT SOUNDED THE CHARGE. He was a Colonel with enough dignity to rule the universe, but he knew no more about music than a pig does of navigation. With his regiment he was slipping up on a Filipino town at night. It was purely a clandestine movement--orders were given in whispered tones by tiptoeing orderlies. The men were holding their bayonet scabbards against their legs to obviate screeching and rattling, and every effort was made to minimize the sounds of a marching body of men. The Colonel with the battalion on the right had arrived within charging distance of the insurgent trenches. It was the pre-arranged plan for all the companies to arrive on this line before the general advance would be made. When all were ready, the charge would be sounded by the Colonel's bugler. The battalion with the Colonel was all ready for the bloody charge. Not knowing if the companies of the other battalions had arrived, the impatient commander sent his adjutant, mounted on a native charger, and his bugler, mounted on a Missouri mule, down the line to investigate. When all was in readiness, the adjutant was to have the bugler sound the charge, when the whole khaki-clad line, like a thousand demons, would set up that awful, "gu gu" terrorizing "Yankee yell," and wade into the unwary Tagalos with cold steel.