Against these obstacles the attacking party hurled themselves, furiously but in vain. Half a dozen engineers immediately commenced to break through the wall itself, in the hope of thus reaching the adjoining chamber. Only a few men could work in so confined a space, and while they hacked against the solid wall, the German defenders now thrust their rifles between the gaps of the sandbags and fired at random. Four Englishmen fell dead, or desperately wounded. Their comrades dragged them back, making room for others. The Colonel's orders had now been carried out, and hand grenades were passed along from man to man. These fearful engines of destruction were only to be used in case of dire extremity; because, closed within these walls, beneath the hill, the explosives might well prove as fatal to the men who used them as to the enemy. For the same reasons, doubtless, the German soldiers engaged in this subterranean struggle, so far, had made no use of bombs. The sappers having found it hopeless to cut a wider entrance through the wall into the adjoining chamber, another plan was quickly thought of and attempted. A can of kerosene was passed along and poured upon the sandbags; then another and another. The moment a light was applied, the soaked sandbags began to burn with so fierce a flame that the soldiers on each side were driven back, and for a brief space the chambers on both sides of the archway were left quite tenantless. Then, with a half stifled cheer, a dozen British soldiers, their rifles clubbed, dashed across the chamber and thrust the burning mass into the inner cell. The Germans in the opposite entry already were hastily piling more sandbags in position, but the gap was not wholly filled when the attacking party rushed upon them impetuously and with an excited shout. Bayonets crossed bayonets now, but neither side could get free play either for attack or for defence. Over the waist-high sandbags in this second archway, the combatants with desperate fury thrust and stabbed. Groans and savage oaths blended with the flash of steel. The place grew slippery with blood. Men fell and could not rise again. Comrade trod comrade under foot and heeded not. Only one lanthorn now remained alight, half revealing the intent and savage faces of the combatants. The Germans seemed to have no light at all. And poor Helmore, who held the solitary lanthorn aloft to guide his men, thus helped to direct the fatal thrust that laid him low. With a hoarse cry, one of the Germans had hurled a bayonet through the doorway. It pierced deep into the lieutenant's throat. The lanthorn dropped from his upraised hand, and he fell against the wall. Blood gushed in a torrent from his mouth, even while he bravely strove to utter the last word of command: "Forward, men, forward!" he gasped, then spoke no more.