The Italian camp had sprung to life as if by magic.  Half-clothed sleepers poured from the tents and formed into ranks in the darkness.  Officers ran hither and thither shouting hoarse orders.  For a moment confusion reigned, but this gave place almost immediately to perfect order.  The discipline of the Italian troops was remarkable.  In almost less time than it takes to tell it, the whole Italian army of the North, stretching out as it did for mile after mile and mile after mile, was under arms, eagerly awaiting the word that would send it against the strongly entrenched Austrian columns ahead.

Less than a hundred rods away Hal made out the form of Colonel Anderson, as he now stood at the head of his men; gazing steadily ahead except when he turned to give an order to one of his subordinates.  Far back, just distinguishable in the now half light, could be seen the dense masses of cavalry, unmounted as yet, but ready to leap to the saddle and dash forward at command.

A gun boomed, shattering the almost oppressive stillness.  Another followed suit.  More took up the work and the air was filled with their thundering.  It became apparent to Hal and Chester, to whom this was nothing new, that the infantry would make the first advance, under the support of the artillery.

“A good-sized job, if you ask me,” declared the latter.

“Rather,” replied Hal dryly.  “Hey,” breaking off suddenly, “where are you going?”

“To the front,” replied Stubbs, to whom the lad had addressed his remark, pausing for a moment and glancing back over his shoulder.  “Got to get a little news, you know.”

“You’d better look out or you are likely to get a little bullet,” remarked Uncle John.

“Well, I’ll have to take a chance,” replied the little man.

With a wave of his hand he disappeared in the darkness.

“Forward!” came a clear voice from their rear.

Came the heavy tramp, tramp of marching feet, as the First Infantry moved forward.  Steadily they marched ahead, silently and with an air of determination.  They made an imposing appearance in the dim light of early morning.

“A gallant body of men,” muttered Hal.  “They’ll give a good account of themselves.”

Came a word of command from Colonel Anderson—­the boys recognized his voice—­and more troops moved forward.  As far as the eye could see dense masses of men were marching rapidly toward the front.  It became apparent that this was to be no mere skirmish—­no mere feeling-out process.  It was to be a battle, and as both lads realized, it might well last for days.

“We may as well go forward a bit,” said Hal.

Accordingly the three started out.  Half an hour later they were suddenly surrounded by a body of infantry, and, in some unaccountable manner, were separated from Uncle John.  In vain they looked, called and whistled for him.  He had disappeared.

“Well, I guess he will be able to find the way back,” said Chester.  “We’d better see if we can find him.”