The lancers swings across the grassy levels.
Thar's not a shot fired; Edson's people ain't got nothin' but them reedic'lous spears, an' the Yanks, who seems to know it, stands like the rest of us without firin' an' watches 'em come.

It's like a picture, with the thin bright air an' the settin' sun shinin' sideways over the gray line of mountains fifty miles to the west.
"'I never sees folks more placid than the Yanks an' at the same time so plumb alert.

Mountain lions is lethargic to 'em.

When Captain Edson an' his lancers charges into 'em the Yanks opens right an' left, each sharp of 'em gettin' outen the way of that partic'lar lancer who's tryin' to spear him; but all in a steady, onruffled fashion that's as threatenin' as it is excellent.

The lancers, with Captain Edson, goes through, full charge, twenty rods to the r'ar of the Yankee line.