"Men," shouted Lieutenant Prescott, "the first duty is to get the wounded behind the trench and then into the house. Every man badly hurt must have prompt attention." Then, indeed, came the time to take account of what had happened. Three of the soldiers already lay dead, their heads and bodies frightfully gashed. Another, Bender, was dying from two knife thrusts through his lungs. Four more men were too badly hurt to help themselves. A dozen others had wounds of varying degrees of seriousness but were able to reach shelter unaided. Uncle Sam had won the victory for the moment, but he had paid dearly for it. "I'm glad you gave me that word when you did, Sergeant," murmured Private Hunter. "It steadied me. If it hadn't been for that I guess I'd have been a goner by this time." It was after three o'clock in the morning when Sergeant Overton felt that he finally had a moment for free breathing. "Sergeant," said the lieutenant, "your watch tour is long past. Lie down and get some sleep." "You're sure that I can be spared, sir?" "Certainly; you can be called if you're needed." To one not accustomed to war it might seem strange, but thirty seconds after Hal had wrapped himself in his blanket he was deep in dreamless slumber. He slept until the sun was fairly high. Then Prescott awoke him. "Kelly--Slosson--are they back, sir?" were Hal's first words, as he threw aside his blanket. "Back nearly three hours ago, Sergeant," smiled the officer. "It's half-past eight. I've been occupied, and have missed my breakfast. Come into the house and breakfast with me, Sergeant Overton. Sergeant Dinsmore will look after things outdoors." "Did--have you buried the Moros who fell?" questioned Hal, looking out beyond the trench. "The rascals sent over men with two lanterns, and asked permission to carry off their casualties," explained the officer. "I let them do it." "It must have given them a lot of work to do," muttered Hal. "It did. I estimate their dead at thirty, and their badly hurt at forty or more. We made it an expensive night for them." "We paid a big price on our own part, sir," returned the young sergeant, "for we paid in good Americans." "We can't have war without death, can we?" half sighed the West Pointer. Once inside the house Hal's first care was to visit the wounded men. "Bender's gone, sir?" asked Hal. "Yes," nodded Lieutenant Prescott gravely. Then they went to breakfast, for the soldier must eat or presently stop fighting. "You'll want to know my orders from Captain Cortland," said Lieutenant Prescott, filling his cup with coffee. "Yes, sir; if you feel at liberty to tell me."