their artillery, which was supporting their brave advance in the face of the enemy.
"Artillery, forward!" shouted Dutton, waving his sword, and hoping, by throwing his entire force suddenly upon Hale's army, to overpower it, and get in more shots than could his opponent. That meant he would win the battle.
"Shall I stay here?" cried Dick, for he had received no orders what to do with his force, and was still on the farther side of the bridge.
"Yes! Until I send for you, or you see that you are needed," called back Dutton. "I guess I can get along without you."
Louder roared the cannon; and the cracks of the rifles of the infantry, and the carbines of the cavalry, was like the explosion of pack after pack of giant firecrackers.
Then something happened. As the three field pieces rumbled across the bridge, there was an ominous cracking and splintering sound. Dutton heard it and turned back from his rush, which he had started on to be in readiness to lead the charge of his artillery. He saw the bridge swaying.
"Come on! Come on!" he cried, waving his sword. "Come on!"
But it was too late. The middle supporting ropes had slipped, and the bridge collapsed at the centre, letting horses, cannon and cadets down into the stream, which, fortunately, was not deep.
Dutton had, at one blow, lost all his artillery,
