ing," said the colonel who had spoken to
him on the previous evening. "Thanks to the timely warning you sent by
the sergeant, we are as prepared as it is possible to be, though our
numbers are dangerously small. Still, we are ready, and we must thank
you, Western, for delaying the enemy and so giving us time. Let me tell
you you have done a gallant and most useful service for the army. Now,
I see you are better. Take a small nip from this flask. It will help
you to pull round."

Phil did as he was directed, and just as the enemy reached the barrier
had recovered his breath and strength sufficiently to snatch up his
rifle again and join his company.

And now commenced a battle upon the fortunes of which depended the fate
of the Allies. Here was an immense army marching in three columns upon
a ridge held only by a division scarcely 4000 strong. In rear of it lay
the French, at present wholly unable to help or reinforce, for, though
not attacked, they sat in their trenches, menaced by Liprandi's large
force from the Causeway heights, captured on "Balaclava" day. And on
their left the roar of cannon from the fortress could already be heard
as they thundered at the British, while behind the masonry thousands of
Russians were massed in preparation for a gigantic sortie upon the
investing trenches.

No one could help that gallant 4000, for everywhere troops were urgently
needed against threatened attack. But lack of numbers was fully
compensated for by a courage which becomes even more remarkable as one
thinks of it--courage sufficient to urge them to march over that crest,
and, leaving their tents, amongst which cannon-shot were already
hurtling, to descend the slope and advance against an army of huge
proportions. Fortune favours the brave, indeed, for where can history
show a brighter example? Eager for the fight, and reckless of the
consequences, the British troops descended the ridge and threw
themselves upon the enemy. The mist opened, and the Russians saw a
double line of red, and faces furious with excitement and lust of
battle, charging upon them, but next moment the British ranks were
hidden. A breath of wind to dispel the vapour would have turned the
fortunes of the battle, and changed glorious victory for the British
into disastrous defeat. But there was no breeze, no puff of wind to
clear the atmosphere, and, ignorant of the thinness of the opposing
lines, and feeling sure that they were already