How long this phase lasted the subaltern never knew. Ordinary standards of time could not measure that nightmare where he constantly shortened the range, hurled unavailing thunders at an inexorably advancing flood. He remembered the moment of agony when he saw that they were running out of ammunition, the joyous relief when the first-line ammunition-wagons raced up and stopped at the right hand of the guns. Under a pall of smoke from the bursting shells he saw his gun-crews dwindling, each man doing the work of two, of three. Once a heavy explosion on the ground attracted his attention. It was the commencement of a series. Choking fumes, now black, now yellowish, drifted over him. A howitzer battery had joined their assailants, was firing high explosive. Exasperated, he searched the distances for a glimpse of the hostile guns. He saw no sign of them. They were being overwhelmed, as they themselves had overwhelmed the battery he had not seen, by foes whose concealment he could not even guess at. Suddenly--how, he knew not--the word was passed to him: "In command." He ran to the end of the line, found the sergeant-major crouching behind the wagon-limber. Blood was running from a diagonal bullet-score across his face. Close by were the bodies of his predecessors in command. "Four guns in action, sir," said the sergeant-major. "Brigade commander's orders: 'Hold our ground.'" "How long ago?" queried the subaltern. "Some time," was the reply. "Not sure--but think the colonel and staff are killed, sir." The subaltern looked along the line of guns, frowned at the tiny groups of gunners. "Where's the observing party?" "At the guns, sir." "Rangetakers? Horseholders?" He had to shout to be heard in the continuous crashing of the shells. "At the guns. Every man in action, sir, except with the horses under cover." The subaltern took in the situation, glanced at the advancing infantry. Despite the efforts of the battery the nearer of them had got close, were now hidden by a fold in the ground. From that fold of ground came a frenzy of rifle-fire and, he fancied, shouts and cries. With despair in his heart, he determined to "hold his ground." Veiled in dust and smoke his four guns fired irregularly but rapidly. A tumult of noise broke out to his right, almost behind him. "Outflanked?" he queried at the top of his voice. The sergeant-major nodded. At the same moment he saw a swarm of brown infantry come over the fold of ground in front of him. Disaster followed disaster. A high-explosive shell swallowed one of his precious guns with an awful explosion of flame and smoke. A soot-faced man ran up and shouted to him that the wagon-supply was all but exhausted. Only the gun-limbers remained. The subaltern glanced at the defeated infantry surging towards them. His jaw set hard with a fierce resolve. "Call up the teams," he shouted.