"Ready!" he called, and to the surprise of Hale, no less than that of Dutton, the woods echoed to the report of artillery where none was supposed to be. A white puff of smoke on Hale's left flank told him that some movement was in progress over there. He was about to order one of his guns to reply to the unexpected bombardment, when there came a ringing shout from the same quarter, and, above the cheer, Dick Hamilton yelled:
"Charge!"
Down upon the all but victorious defenders of the hill rushed the little force of six cavalrymen.
Behind them, leading about thirty cadets, who were as fresh as daisies, came Dick.
"Charge! Charge!" he yelled, and then he ordered the lads to open fire.
They did it with a will, for they had not had a chance to use their guns yet, and they were wild to do so.
What a fire they poured into the ranks of the defenders. How the one lone field piece, well screened by bushes, sent shell after shell (theoretically) screaming into the midst of the enemy.
Hale was all but demoralized. He had seen victory just within his grasp, and now he was attacked by fresh reinforcements. Dutton had been too much for him, after all, he thought.
As for Dutton, he hardly knew what to make of it. He could not understand how Dick had been able to lead up his forces, to execute a suc-
