It struck him all at once that it was quite impossible to see the foresight--that he must actually touch what he would hit if he would be at all sure of hitting it.

He remembered, too, in that instant--as a born soldier does remember things--that in the dark an attacking enemy is probably more frightened than his foe.

His father had told it him when he was a little lad afraid of bogies; he in turn had told it to the other boys at school, and they had passed it on until in that school it had become rule number one of school-boy lore--just as rule number two in all schools where the sons of soldiers go is "Take the fight to him." He leaped from the bed, with his rifle out in front of him--white-nightshirted and unexpected--sudden enough to scare the wits out of anything that had them.

He was met by a snarl.

The two eyes narrowed, and then blazed.