Every soldier tore the end of the paper cartridge open with his teeth.
"Prime!"
A little of the powder was emptied into the pans of the guns.
"Shut—pan!"
"Cast—about!"
At that, the soldiers dropped their guns upright, and prepared to pour the powder in from the cartridge.
"Charge—cartridge!"
The powder was dumped into the muzzles, and the ball and cartridge paper for a wad, were forced in after.
"Draw—rammer!"
"Ram—cartridge!"
"Return—rammer!"
"Shoulder—arms!"
Or perhaps—
"Ready!"
"Aim!"
And while one held one's breath, expecting a volley—
"Recover—arms!"
This left them at a "ready," again.
"That load in twelve times is only for discipline," Hannibal scoffed. "To teach 'em to work together. Load in four times is the Regulars' way, by count—one, two, three, four. But mostly it's 'Load at will—load!' I'd hate to be a Volunteer. They can fight, though. Yes, siree; they can fight. They're not much on discipline, and they yell and sing and strag-
