luck I went
with the wrong lot, on the right of the village."

"It is well some of the regiment escaped what we went through," said
Colonel Blythe, sadly. "My left wing was nearly cut to pieces. I was
never under such a fire."

"How many have you lost, do you suppose?"

"We are now mustering the regiment: a sorrowful business enough. Seven
officers are missing."

"What are their names?"

"Popham, Smart, Drybergh, Arrowsmith--"

"Anastasius--my young cousin--is he safe?" hastily interrupted the
general.

Colonel Blythe shook his head.

"I missed him half way up the hill; he was carrying the regimental colour,
but when we got into the battery it was in the sergeant-major's hands. I
wish to bring his--the sergeant-major's--conduct especially before your
notice, general."

"The sergeant-major's? Very good. But if he took the colour he must
know what happened to Anastasius. Call him, will you?"

Sergeant-major McKay came up and saluted.

"Mr. Wilders, sir," he told the general, "was wounded as we were
breasting the slope."

"You saw him go down? Where was he hit?"

"I hadn't time to wait, sir."

"I should think not," interrupted Colonel Blythe; "but for him,
general, we should never have carried the battery. I was dismounted,
the men were checked, and just at the right moment the sergeant-major
led them on."

"Bravely done, my lad! You shall hear of this again; I will make a
special report to the commander of the forces. But there, that will
keep. We must see after this poor boy."

"I was just sending off a party for the purpose," said the colonel.

"That's right. You have some idea, I suppose"--this was to McKay--"of
the place where Mr. Wilders fell?"

"Certainly, sir. I think I can easily find it."

"Very well; show us the way. And you, Powys"--this was to the
aide-de-camp--"ride over to the Royal Lancers and tell Hugo Wilders
what has happened."

Then the little band of Good Samaritans set out upon its painful
mission. The autumn evening was already closing in; the night air blew
chill across the desolate plain; already numbers of men were busy
amongst the wounded, assuaging their thirst from water-bottles,
covering the prostrate forms with blankets, and lending the surgeons a
helping hand.

Half an hour brought the searchers of the Royal Picts to where young
Anastasius Wilders lay. McKay was the first to find him, and he raised
a shout of recognition as he ran forward to the wounded officer