"That was a big bomb," said the captain, "and it seems to have done considerable mischief."

Now a little puff of white smoke issued from the American air-ship and ten seconds later an explosive body of some sort burst against a wall of rock.

"If they keep on like that they'll only hit our own men," said the lieutenant.

"The j.a.p is ascending," cried some one, and again all the field-gla.s.ses were directed towards the two ships.

Now both were seen to rise.

"The j.a.ps are throwing down everything they've got in the way of explosives," cried the captain. A whole row of black spots came rushing down and again came the thunder caused by the bursting of several bombs one after the other.

The j.a.p went up rapidly and then crossed the path of the American balloon about two hundred yards above it.

Suddenly the yellow envelope of the American air-ship burst into flames, lost its shape and shrunk together, and the ship fell rapidly among the valleys to the left, looking like the skeleton of an umbrella that has been out in a gale of wind.

"All over," said the lieutenant with a sigh. "What a shame! We might just as well have done that ourselves."

High up in the blue ether hovered the j.a.panese air-ship; then it described a curve to the left, went straight ahead and then seemed suddenly to be swallowed up in the morning light. But soon it appeared again as a gray speck against the clear blue sky, and turning to the right once more, got bigger and bigger, came nearer, and finally steered back straight for the Blue Mountains. And then the thunder of cannon was heard from the right.

The a.s.sault on Hilgard, the center of the j.a.panese position in the broad valley of the Blue Mountains, had failed; two regiments had bled to death on the wire barricades outside the little town, and then all was over. It would be necessary to break up the enemy's position by flank movements from both sides before another attack on their center could be attempted. For two long days the artillery contest waged; then Longworth's division on our right wing gained a little ground, and when the sun sank to rest behind the Blue Mountains on August 14th, we had reason to be satisfied with our day's work, for we had succeeded, at a great sacrifice, it is true, in wresting from the enemy several important positions on the sides of the mountains.

Towards evening six fresh batteries were sent forward to the captured positions, whence they were to push on towards the left wing of the j.a.panese center the next morning. Telephone messages to headquarters from the front reported the mountain-pa.s.s leading to Walla Walla free from the enemy, so that a transport of ammunition could be sent that way in the evening to replenish the sadly diminished store for the decisive battle to be fought the next day.

While the newspapers all over the East were spreading the news of this first victory of the American arms, Lieutenant Esher was commanded by General Longworth to carry the orders for the next day to the officer in charge of the Tenth Brigade, which had taken up its position before the mountain-pa.s.s on the right wing. For safety's sake General Longworth had decided to send his orders by word of mouth, only giving instructions that the receipt of each message should be reported to headquarters by each detachment either by field-telegraph or telephone.

Lieutenant Esher, on his motor-cycle, pa.s.sed an endless chain of ammunition wagons on his way. For a long time he could make only slow progress on account of the numerous ambulances and other vehicles which the temporary field-hospitals were beginning to send back from the front; but after a time the road gradually became clear.

The motor rattled on loudly through the silent night, which was disturbed only now and then by the echo of a shot. Here and there along the road a sentry challenged the solitary traveler, who gave the pa.s.sword and puffed on.

He had been informed that the quickest way to reach General Lawrence would be by way of the narrow mountain-path that turned off to the left of the road, which had now become absolutely impa.s.sable again on account of innumerable transports. It was a dangerous ride, for any moment the bicycle might smash into some unseen obstacle and topple over into the abyss on the right, into which stones and loose earth were continually falling as the cycle pushed them to one side.

Lieutenant Esher therefore got off his wheel and pushed it along. At the edge of a wood he stopped for a moment to study his map by the light of an electric pocket-lamp, when he heard a sharp call just above him. He could not quite make it out, but gave the pa.s.sword, and two shots rang out simultaneously close to him.--When Lieutenant Esher came to, he found a j.a.panese army doctor bending over him.

He had an uncertain feeling of having been carried over a rocky desert, and when he at last succeeded in collecting his thoughts, he came to the conclusion that he must have strayed from the path and run straight into the enemy's arms.

He tried to raise his head to see where he was, but a violent pain in his shoulder forced him to lie still. The noises all around made it clear to him, however, that he was among j.a.panese outposts. The doctor exchanged a few words with an officer who had just come up, but they spoke j.a.panese and Esher could not understand a word they said.

"Am I wounded?" he asked of the ambulance soldier beside him. The latter pointed to the doctor, who said, "You will soon be all right again."

"Where am I wounded?"

"In the right thigh," answered the doctor, sitting down on a stone near Esher. The doctor didn't seem to have much work to do.

The stinging pain in his right shoulder robbed Esher of his senses for a moment, but he soon came to again and remembered his orders to Lawrence's brigade. Thank G.o.d he had no written message on his person.

As it was, the enemy had succeeded in capturing only a broken motor-cycle and a wounded, unimportant officer. The division staff would soon discover by telephoning that General Lawrence had not received his orders and then repeat the message.

Esher managed to turn his head, and watched the j.a.panese officer copying an order by the light of a bicycle lamp. The order had just been delivered by a mounted messenger, who sat immovable as a statue on his exhausted and panting steed.

Suddenly the j.a.panese cavalryman seemed to grow enormous bats' wings, which spread out until they obscured the whole sky. The ghostly figure resembled a wild creature of fable, born of the weird fancy of a Dore, or an avenging angel of the Apocalypse. Then the rider shrank together again and seemed to be bouncing up and down on the back of his horse like a little grinning monkey.

The wounded man rubbed his eyes. What was that? Was he awake or had he been dreaming?

He asked the ambulance soldier for a drink, and the latter at once handed him some water in a tin cup. Now a real j.a.panese cavalryman was once more sitting up there on his horse, while the officer was still writing. Then the officer's arm began to grow longer and longer, until at last he was writing on the sky with a fiery pencil:

"In case there is no j.a.panese attack on August 15th, the Tenth Brigade under General Lawrence is to retain its present positions until the attack of our center----"

Good Lord, what was that? Yes, those were the very words of the message he was to have delivered to the Tenth Brigade, and not only were the words identical, but the hand-writing was the same, for the flaming letters had burnt themselves into his memory stroke for stroke and word for word and line for line.

He tried to get up, but could not. The lieutenant kept on writing, while the horseman stood beside him. The horse was brushing off the flies with his tail.

Then the awful, maddening thought came to him: This must be the beginning of wound-fever. If it kept up and he began to get delirious, he might betray his orders for Lawrence's brigade to the enemy.

And he saw hundreds of j.a.panese standing around him, all stretching their necks to catch his words, and more and more came from over the mountain ridges like a swarm of ants, and they all wanted to hear the secrets that he was trying to keep in his aching head, while the officer waved his note-book over him like a fluttering flag. Then the doctor seized him, and arm in arm they hopped to and fro--to and fro--to and fro.

Yes, he was certainly delirious. Lieutenant Esher thought of his home.

He saw his little house on 148th Street. He came home from business, he walked through the garden, hung up his coat on the rack, opened the door, his young wife welcomed him, she nodded to him--Eveline--groaned the lieutenant, and then his thoughts turned to G.o.d.

Then the writing officer again, the rider on his horse, and the dark night-sky, in which the stars were dancing like silver gnats. Collecting his whole willpower, he succeeded in getting into a sitting posture, and the j.a.panese soldier attending him awoke out of a doze only to find his revolver in the American's hands. But it was too late, for a shot resounded at the same moment. Lieutenant Esher had brought his weary brain to rest; his head toppled over and landed hard on the rocky ground.

Thus died a real hero, and those were hard times when men of stout heart and iron courage were sorely needed.

Opposite Hilgard, the center of the enemy's position in the Blue Mountains, trenches had been thrown up, and the 28th Militia Regiment had occupied them in the night of August 13th-14th. The j.a.panese were apparently not aware of their presence, as the regiment had taken no part in the fighting on the fourteenth. On the evening of the same day, the 32d Regiment was pushed forward to the same position, while the searchlights were playing over the plain and on the mountain sides, and dazzling the eyes of the sentries who were keeping a sharp lookout for the enemy from various ambushes. And whenever the beam of light landed on dark shadows, which jumped quickly aside, flames shot out on the opposite side and flashes of fire from bursting shrapnel drew trembling streaks across the sky and lighted up the immediate neighborhood.

The wires which connected the headquarters with all the sentries and outposts vibrated perpetually with the thoughts and commands of a single individual, who managed this whole apparatus from a little schoolroom in Baker City far behind the front, allowing himself scarcely a moment for much-needed night-rest.

The 28th Regiment had thrown up trenches the height of a man in the hard ground opposite the little town of Hilgard on the night of August 13th-14th. Now a company of pioneers was busy widening them and building stands for the troops where they would be safe from splinters, for it was highly probable that the a.s.sault on Hilgard would be undertaken from here on the following evening. The covering for these stands was made of thick boards and planks taken from a saw-mill near by, and over these the dug up earth was spread. The enemy's attention seemed to be directed elsewhere, for the reflections from the searchlights were continually crossing one another over to the right. In this direction music could be distinctly heard coming from Longworth's Division--a lively march waking the echoes of the night with its clear full tones.

Music? Those who were swearing at the stupidity of allowing the band to play in the very face of the enemy, did not know that the troops over there on their way to quarters had marched over forty miles that day, and that only the inspiring power of music could help the stumbling men to gather their remaining strength and press forward.

The cheerful melody of the old Scotch song,

"Gin a body, meet a body, Comin' thro' the rye,"

rang out in common time across the silent battle-field, fifes squeaking and drums rolling, while the silent searchlights continued flashing in the dark sky.

"Gin a body, meet a body, Comin' thro' the rye."

Meanwhile the picks and spades were kept going in the trenches of the 28th Regiment. The earth and stones flew with a rattle over the top of the breastworks, making them stronger and stronger, pioneers and infantry working side by side in the dark, hollow s.p.a.ce. The battalion on guard kept strict watch in the direction of the enemy, continually expecting to see creeping figures suddenly pop up out of the darkness.

"Didn't you hear something, captain?" asked one of the men on watch.

"No, where?"

A curious purring sound like the whizzing of a small dynamo became audible.