"have an eye to Henry!"

The path that led down the hill was a most difficult one, being winding
and very rocky. Above the soldiers rose a precipice, manned by parties
of the enemy, who harassed them incessantly by throwing fragments of
rock down upon their heads. These immense stones were hurled from a
height of fifty yards; but the companies wound round the mountain in
good order.

Last of all came Henry Archer and his ten men, attended by the Doctor.
Theirs was the chief post of honour and of peril. Henry's foot slipped;
he tried to recover himself, but in vain. Down he rolled with the loose
stones that had been hurled from above. McGregor stopped, and two of the
men with him; the other eight men pushed forward. Henry's leg was
broken; he could not move. Here was, indeed, an anxious dilemma.

"We must carry him, of course," said the surgeon. "You are the best man
of us three, Henderson; we'll hoist him on your back."

To stagger along such a path, bearing a heavy burden, was well-nigh
impossible, even for the stalwart soldier. Dark faces might have been
seen looking over the ridge, had they glanced upwards. They knew of the
presence of these foes by the falling of the rocks about their ears. The
peril of the situation demoralised the second soldier; he picked up his
rifle, which he had laid on the ground while he helped the surgeon to
lift Henry upon Henderson's back, and ran.

"Oh, Doctor dear, he's too weighty for me," groaned Henderson. "I canna
carry him anither foot o' the way; sure, sure he's the biggest man in
the regiment."

"Lay me down, Henderson, and save yourself; why should I sacrifice
_you_?" groaned the wounded man.

"I'll take him from you, man; quick, quick, help me to get him on my
back."

"Why, Doctor, he's a bigger man nor you," said Henderson in his Ulster
dialect.

"No matter. I'll carry him or die! He has fainted. He is a dead weight
now--but we leave this road together, or we stay here together."
Muttering the last words, Malcolm set out, and he carried him safely
over very rough ground, under a heavy shower of bullets and rockets, for
one hundred and fifty yards to where the nine men awaited them.

Malcolm's strength was now gone; but Henderson had recovered his powers
a little, and joining hands with him, they managed to carry Henry on to
the spot where the last company of the Fusiliers and a company of
Gourkas were forming, a sharp fire being kept up all the time on both
sides.