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The third squad's right end had been blocked and now, eager to make up for lost time, he overran and missed his tackle entirely and the second's back came speeding up the field near the side-line, a hastily-formed interference guarding him well. Ten yards, fifteen, twenty, and then Carmine wormed through and brought the runner to earth. "That's one on you, right end," said Andy sternly.
Watching his chance, Blount darted out to make the crossing. He was half-way to the opposite curb when an unwieldy hook-and-ladder truck, drawn by a pair of magnificent grays, came lurching and plunging down the side street upon which the hotel cornered. In front of the horses, and leaping and barking at their heads in a frenzy of excitement, was a spotted coach-dog the truck squad's mascot.
Ahead, an isuan-maddened Earthling fell foul of a Venusian; a circle cleared in the mob, a ray-gun spat and missed, and the Venusian closed, the gleam of a skewer-blade playing around him. This was combat; this was interesting; but none of the squad's five men gave the fight a glance, or even turned his head when, as they passed, the butchered Earthling coughed out his life.
He swung his sacred censer pot over each body and though we understood no word we knew he was doing reverence to the spirit of sacrifice shown by our fallen comrades. There in the darkness by the edge of the forest, the priest and his ceremony, the firing squad's volley, and the bugler's last call, all united to make that an allied funeral.
At the Traiti squad's pace, he didn't have time to examine the pictures, but he observed that all of them seemed well-done and the subject matter was varied: landscapes, battle and space scenes, figures. The Ranger couldn't help thinking of the commonest subjects as Madonnas, although they didn't seem religious.
The lieutenant's rubber blanket lay on the ground, and upon it he had poured the company's supply of coffee. Corporals and other representatives of the grimy and hot-throated men who lined the breastwork had come for each squad's portion. The lieutenant was frowning and serious at this task of division.
Look at him!" pointing to Marco. "He's got some sense." Marco, in fact, had not made any sound. "Come here, you Cad and Ben, and put me back on my wheels," raged the Squad's commander. "I'll not make up the game at all. It's no use with a lot of fat-head, raw recruits like you." The line broke and surrounded him in a moment, pleading and urging. "Aw, Rat! We forgot.
Chouteau, who had been given the squad's rice to carry, fatigued and exasperated with his heavy load, watched for an opportunity when no one was looking and dropped the package. But Loubet had seen him. "See here, that's no way! you ought not to do that. The comrades will be hungry by and by." "Let be!" replied Chouteau. "There is plenty of rice; they will give us more at the end of the march."
The Rat thought they were. Somehow he felt that they struck home. He reddened with a sudden emotion. "Squad!" he said. "I'll let you give three cheers on that. It's for the last time. We'll begin to be quiet afterward." And to the Squad's exultant relief he led the cheer, and they were allowed to make as much uproar as they liked.
Honoria beat up his pillows and prop him with them, so that the drum-beating clamor might be minimized to some bearable degree. "You are feeling better now?" suggested the volunteer nurse, going to adjust the window-curtains for the better comfort of the blinking and aching eyes. The victim of the hook-and-ladder squad's mascot answered qualitatively.
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