ew hundred yards, but it means a lot to
_us_!"

"It hasn't happened yet," said Bobby stoutly.

Captain Wagstaffe knew better. His more experienced eye and ear had
detected the fact that the position of the regiment upon the left was
already turned. But he said nothing.

Presently the tall figure of the Colonel was seen, advancing in
leisurely fashion along the trench, stopping here and there to
exchange a word with a private or a sergeant.

"The regiment on the left may have to fall back, men," he was saying.
"We, of course, will stand fast, and cover their retirement."

This most characteristic announcement was received with a
matter-of-fact "Varra good, sir," from its recipients, and the Colonel
passed on to where the two officers were standing.

"Hallo, Wagstaffe," he said; "good-morning! We shall get some very
pretty shooting presently. The enemy are massing on our left front,
down behind those cottages. How are things going on our right?"

"They are holding their own, sir."

"Good! Just tell Ayling to get his guns trained. But doubtless he has
done so already. I must get back to the other flank."

And back to the danger-spot our C.O. passed--an upright, gallant
figure, saying little, exhorting not at all, but instilling confidence
and cheerfulness by his very presence.

Half-way along the trench he encountered Major Kemp.

"How are things on the left, sir?" was the Major's _sotto voce_
inquiry.

"Not too good. Our position is turned. We have been promised
reinforcements, but I doubt if they can get up in time. Of course,
when it comes to falling back, this regiment goes last."

"Of course, sir."

IV

_Highlanders! Four hundred yards! At the enemy advancing half-left,
rapid fire_!

Twenty minutes had passed. The regiment still stood immovable, though
its left flank was now utterly exposed. All eyes and rifles were fixed
upon the cluster of cottages. Through the gaps that lay between these
could be discerned the advance of the German infantry--line upon line,
moving towards the trench upon our left. The ground to our front was
clear. Each time one of these lines passed a gap the rifles rang out
and Ayling's remaining machine-gun uttered joyous barks. Still the
enemy advanced. His shrapnel was bursting overhead; bullets were
whistling from nowhere, for the attack in force was now being pressed
home in earnest.

The deserted trench upon our left ran right through the cottages, and
this restric