arties of two hundred, and often less--as few even as
twenty,--with desperate courage and determination, and with a lust of
battle and ferocity that was truly marvellous. Not once, but many
times, these small groups flung themselves upon the enemy, and,
thrusting and slashing on every side, cut their way to the very centre
of the mass of grey, pushed on with assailants surrounding them, and at
length passed to the other side, only to turn and bury themselves once
more in the Russian ranks.

Late in the day, too, when the fate of the battle still hung in the
balance, more artillery arrived, and, engaging the batteries on Gun
Hill, caused them to retire. Then slowly and grudgingly the Russian
infantry turned round and retreated in disorder to the heights of
Inkermann, leaving an enormous number of killed and wounded behind them.

Oh for Scarlett's Heavy Brigade, or the remainder even of that glorious
600 horse who had charged into "the gates of hell" on Balaclava day!
One dash, one fierce charge amidst those retreating soldiers, and defeat
would have been a rout, a decisive victory, which even at this date
might well have led to the surrender of the fortress and the humbling of
Russian pride.

But no horse were there, and the retreating forces of the Czar reached
their bivouacs sullen and dispirited at their crushing defeat, but
without suffering further injury save from the shell and plunging shot
as the British guns opened upon the flying mass.

But that deep valley and the slopes leading to the ridge were piled with
dead and wounded innumerable, for both sides had lost heavily, the
Russian casualties amounting to many thousands.

Phil took his full share in the battle, while Tony hovered like a
guardian angel near him, many a time turning aside a flashing bayonet
meant for his friend.

One thrust, indeed, got home, the bayonet transfixing Phil's thigh and
bringing him to the ground.

With a roar Tony was upon the man and had knocked him senseless with a
tremendous blow on the head from the stock of his rifle. Then, lifting
Phil, he carried him into a safer position behind the barrier of stones.

"It's nothing," exclaimed Phil, with a smile. "Slit up my trousers and
just tie your handkerchief round. That's it. Now I think I shall be
all right. The pain made me feel a little faint."

Taking a pull at his flask, which contained weak brandy and water, he
was soon on his feet again, and had taken his place