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Updated: May 5, 2025
"I've heard about the fight when Sheriff Beaudry was killed. Jess Tighe had his spine injured in it. But I never knew that dad . . . You're sure of it?" she flung at him. "Yes. He led the attackers. I suppose he thought of it as a feud. My father had killed one of his people in a gun fight." She, too, looked into the fire. It was a long time before she spoke, and then in a small, lifeless voice.
It was almost inconceivable that in this quiet corner of the Indian Empire two English people could be thus assailed. The only theory that he could form was that the attackers were a band of Bengali political dacoits. The firing started again. Dermot appeared to be so well hidden that none of their enemies had discovered him, except the one unlucky wretch whose courage had proved his ruin.
A number of explosions and four incendiary fires resulted from these attacks by French airmen. Surprise attacks were attempted by German troops on the French advance posts east of Butte du Mesnil in the region of Maisons de Champagne. During the day of January 5, 1917, French artillery fire dispersed the attackers, who fled from the field, leaving a number of prisoners in French hands.
The result was that the line was no longer level. Some got far ahead of the others. Among the leaders were Ken and Dave, who struggled along, side by side, still untouched amid the pelting storm of lead. But although the ranks were sadly thinned, the attackers were not to be denied. In a living torrent, they poured into the second trench. There followed a grim five minutes.
But few as were Leonidas’s numbers, they were not so few as to fail to relieve one another at the front of the press,—which front was fearfully narrow. And three times, as his men drifted back in defeat, Xerxes the king “leaped from the throne whereon he sat, in anguish for his army.” At noon new contingents from the rear took the place of the exhausted attackers.
Shoot! Kill!" he yelled. "Our only chance now! If they get in we're dead!" He snatched her weapon, reloaded, and again rained the steel-jacketed bolts of death against the attackers. In the tumult and wild maelstrom of the fight the revolvers' crackling seemed to produce little effect.
On reaching the lane down which they had plunged, however, I paused a moment, considering not so much its black-ness, which was intense, the eaves nearly meeting overhead, as the small chance I had of distinguishing between attackers and attacked.
The attackers were five to one, and the five were soldiers of De Wet, the hard-bitten veterans of a hundred encounters. The captured wagons in a long double row stretched out over the plain, and under this cover the Dutchmen swarmed up to the kraal. But the men who faced them were veterans also, and the defence made up for the disparity of numbers.
Swiftly Philip turned and looked to the left. Kaskisoon and his braves were advancing upon the Nest with the elusiveness of foxes. At first he could not see them. Then, as Adare's voice boomed over the open, they rose with the suddenness of a flight of partridges, and ran swift-footed straight in the face of the windows. Thus far the game of the attackers had worked without flaw.
Now and then the whisk of a dark figure from one boulder to another was all that ever was seen of the attackers. The British fired slowly and steadily, for every cartridge counted, but the cover of the Boers was so cleverly taken that it was seldom that there was much to aim at.
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