ail himself of these advantages. He had the swift vision,
the resolute will, and the daring of a great commander. "It is on
Spanish soil," he said in a proclamation to his troops, "your tents
must next be pitched. Let the account of our successes be dated from
Vittoria, and let the fete-day of his Imperial Majesty be celebrated in
that city." These were brave words, and having uttered them, Soult led
his gallant troops, with gallant purpose, into the gloomy passes of the
Pyrenees, and for days following the roar of battle sank and swelled
over the snow-clad peaks. But when the Imperial fete-day
arrived--August 15--Soult's great army was pouring back from those same
passes a shattered host, and the allied troops, sternly following them,
were threatening French soil!

Soult judged Pampeluna to be in greater peril than San Sebastian, and
moved by his left to force the passes of Roncesvalles and Maya. The
rain fell furiously, the mountain streams were in flood, gloomy mists
shrouded the hill-tops; but by July 24, with more than 60,000 fighting
men, and nearly seventy guns, Soult was pouring along the passes he had
chosen. It is impossible to do more than pick out a few of the purple
patches in the swift succession of heroic combats that followed: fights
waged on mountain summits 5000 feet above the sea-level, in shaggy
forests, under tempests of rain and snow. D'Erlon, with a force of
20,000 men, took the British by surprise in the pass of Maya. Ross, an
eager and hardy soldier, unexpectedly encountering the French advance
guard, instantly shouted the order to "Charge!" and with a handful of
the 20th flung himself upon the enemy, and actually checked their
advance until Cole, who had only 10,000 bayonets to oppose to 30,000,
had got into fighting form. A thick fog fell like a pall on the
combatants, and checked the fight, and Cole, in the night, fell back.
The French columns were in movement at daybreak, but still the fog hid
the whole landscape, and the guides of the French feared to lead them
up the slippery crags. At Maya, however, the French in force broke
upon Stewart's division, holding that pass. The British regiments, as
they came running up, not in mass, but by companies, and breathless
with the run, were flung with furious haste upon the French. The 34th,
the 39th, the 28th in succession crashed into the fight, but were flung
back by overpowering numbers. It was a battle of 4000 men against
13,000.