"Bones broken?" the Commander asked anxiously. "I don’t think so," Williams said, adding, as the most awful shrieks and yells came from the bushes—"they are trying to frighten us and getting up courage to rush across, but I think we can stop them in the open. Steady, men, don’t waste a shot, and fire low. Loosen your belts, men, and see your ammunition clear." Each of the ten Blue Marines loosened a couple of packets and laid them in little piles at his right-hand side. A wild crackle and splutter of rifle firing rang out—another hideous yell. Two Europeans sprang into the open, and a crowd of blue-coated Chinamen followed them and began rushing madly across. "Now, men, you can’t miss them; fire low, fire low, and take aim. Take aim, can’t you?" (this to a young marine who was shoving in cartridges and pulling the trigger almost at the same time). Seven or eight fell before they had gone as many yards, but still they came on, the Europeans well ahead. They covered a hundred yards, and now they were coming up the rise, the ground behind them dotted with little blue heaps. Cummins drew his revolver. "Is yours loaded, Glover?" "Yes, sir." "Then don’t draw it unless they get over the sandbags," he chuckled, "or you’ll be shooting me." The marines were up on their knees now, firing over the breast-work. It was absolute slaughter, but the Chinese showed no sign of slackening. One of the white men Glover recognized—the man with the black beard. "Two of you take that black-bearded scoundrel," Williams sang out, "and two the other white man." Chinamen fell all around them, but still they came on. "Take a shot yourself, Williams," Cummins ordered. (Williams was a noted rifle shot.) He seized a rifle, rested it on a sand-bag, took careful aim and fired, loaded, and fired again. The second European twisted round and fell. As he fell his hat came off, and Glover recognized, with a funny feeling of regret, that it was Hopkins. The Chinese following him stopped, came on again, looked back, half a dozen threw up their arms and fell, and then the others had had enough of it, could face no more, and, throwing their rifles away, ran down the hill to the right. The black-bearded man, with fifty or sixty Chinamen still behind him, got to within fifty yards. The marines began to cheer, standing up now to fire. They dwindled to forty, to thirty, and then with a sudden shock Glover realized that they were actually up to them, and woke to the fact that men were fighting hand to hand, marines clubbing their rifles and smiting left and right (they were still outnumbered three to one), and that the Commander was standing in front of him coolly firing his revolver. He suddenly remembered that he had a revolver too, and drew it, but Cummins seized it and handed him his empty smoking one to reload.