Boylan thought of writing the Poltneck incident, and became hopeless again. The Russians would be idiots to let him out alive. He did not expect it. The only chance was that they couldn't see themselves. Perhaps Kohlvihr thought he was a hero to-day. Doubtless he did.... One thing was sure, he, Boylan, must sit tight with his enthusiasm for the Russian force; must play it harder than ever—must play it for Peter Mowbray, too.
“You fellows certainly have your troubles—front and back,” he said to Dabnitz. “But I say, , you couldn't ask troops to go forward better—you couldn't ask more of the Japanese in the business of charges—”
“I wasn't out in that service,” Dabnitz observed.
“Grand little bunch of afield, those Japanese—religious about these matters of using up hostile . Fact is, I never saw white troops go out to a finish four times in one day—as yours did to-day—out over their own dead, too—”
He was becoming ; his heart quaking for Peter, as he thought suddenly of the words aimed at Kohlvihr's throat, and of Peter's association at the last with the man in the steward's blouse. ...Dabnitz was unvaryingly .
The advance was on again. Boylan went forth to see the . The main lines on either side had loosened to fill the gaps of Kohlvihr's division, the much-torn by the fresher infantrymen. On they went, a last time, over the strewn land.
Boylan saw it all again; heard the drum of the batteries when the troops reached the hollow of the valley; saw them change like figures on a screen; perceived the antics and the general settling—and turned away....
It was like the
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