"With the bayonet--charge!" bellowed Roberts, taking command. He took a few steps in advance and found himself alone. The Scouts were satisfied with their position; they settled a little deeper in the trench and peppered away valiantly. "Charge, darn you, charge!" screeched Roberts, pricking the nearest men with his sword. But the few minutes of oral instruction upon charging, given in the church, proved inadequate. Three or four--those who had come in closest contact with Roberts's persuasion--started out convulsively, took a few steps, and suddenly flopped back into the ditch like frogs into a puddle. The Dios-Dios lines were stiffening now. With the Maestro's rifle quiet, their immunity from punishment was encouraging. Back of them, upright on a mound, the pseudo-sainted form of Papa Isio stood with arms stretched to heaven in fervent exhortation. The more valiant began to prevail. The lines began to move forward again. "Oh, Lord," groaned Roberts, "if the little skunks would only charge." And then from the depths of the trench there slowly emerged a strange, inchoate, human thing. As it rose it segregated; one half of it fell off in a big black, limp body. The rest continued unfolding, up and up, till finally it stood in full view, a weird, bloody, red-haired, dishevelled spectre. It tottered unsteadily on the talus and then a shrill, unearthly voice quavered: "Five, twenty-four, six X!" There was a movement in the trench. "Five, twenty-four, six X!" again wailed the lamentable voice. A little group of men sprang out of the trench and charged in a V a-down the square; the rest of the company poured out in helter-skelter pursuit. Before this incongruous advance the Dios-Dios lines, who had seen enough miracles for one day, broke, turned, and fled. A small body held their ground, and the Scouts struck them with a crumpling crash. For three minutes it was bayonet against bolo, and Roberts's revolver turned the scales. In another minute the plaza was cleared and the last of Papa Isio's forces were disappearing among the burned huts with bayonets at their backs. * * * * * When Roberts returned with his elated soldiers he found the pueblo occupied by a detachment sent from Bago. A stretcher was starting on a tour of the field, but Roberts ran ahead of it to the centre of the plaza. His attention had been caught by a vague movement there. Through the high grass he could see something struggling and bounding in sudden, sharp movement. It was the inevitable Maestro. He was on top of Hafner, who also had come back to life, and was "kneeing" him with characteristic enthusiasm. "Mr. Referee," screamed the gentle educator, when he had been pulled away by Roberts, aided by a corporal's squad; "Mr. Referee, he crawled after you blew the whistle! Put that ball back, you scalawag. Our ball!" Then he fainted, which, considering the day's work, was about the proper thing to do. III HER READING