The August day was intensely hot, with its hours made grievous by a heavy, humid air, and the sand and thick dust ground and flung up in clouds by sixteen thousand troops, with all the cavalry hoofs and artillery wheels. It was only a type of the ten days that followed, wherein heat and dust and humid air, and thirst--burning, maddening thirst--joined together against the brave soldiery fighting not for fortune, nor glory, nor patriotism, but for humanity. As they tramped away in military order, Thaine Aydelot said to his nearest comrade: "Goodrich, I saw a familiar German face up in the line." "Friend of yours the Emperor sent out to keep you company?" Goodrich inquired with a smile. "No, a Kansas joint-keeper named Hans Wyker. What do you suppose put him against the Boxers?" "Oh, the army is the last resort for some men. It's society's clearing house," Goodrich replied. The speaker was a Harvard man, a cultured gentleman, in civil life a University Professor. The same high purpose was in his service that controlled Thaine Aydelot now. "I don't like being at the tail-end of this procession," a big German from the Pennsylvania foundries declared, as he trudged sturdily along under the blazing sun. The courage in his determined face and his huge strength would warrant him a place in the front line anywhere. "Nor I, Schwoebel," Thaine declared. "I came out with Funston's 'Fighting Twentieth.' I'm used to being called back, not tolled along after the rear." "Rock Chalk! Jay Hawk! K U!" roared Schwoebel in a tremendous bellow. "Rock Chalk! Jay Hawk! K U!" a Pennsylvania University man named McLearn followed Schwoebel. "Rock Chalk! Jay Hawk! K U!" went down the whole line of infantry. The old Kansas University yell, taken to the Philippines by college men, became the battle cry of the Twentieth Kansas Volunteers, who when they returned to civil life, left it there for the American, army--and "Rock Chalk! Jay Hawk! K U!" became the American watchword and cry of all that "far flung battle line" marching on through dust and heat to rescue the imperiled Christians in a beleagured fortress inside the impregnable city of Peking. "You needn't worry about the rear, Aydelot. One engagement may whip this line about, end to end, or it may scale off all that's in front of us and leave nothing but the rear. All this before we have time to change collars again. We'll let you or Tasker here lead into Peking," an Indiana University man declared. "That's good of you, Binford. Some Kansas man will be first to carry the flag into Peking. It might as well be Aydelot." This from Tasker, a slender young fellow from a Kansas railroad office. So they joked as they tramped along. It was nearly midnight when they pitched camp before the little village of Peit-Tsang beside the Peiho.