ace.

The chance on which the allies turned their backs was quickly seized
by the enemy. One of the brightest pages in modern military annals is
that which records how the genius and indomitable energy of one man
improvised a resolute and protracted defence; and none have done
fuller justice to Todleben than the foes he so long and gallantly kept
at bay.

The allies now entered, almost with light hearts, upon a siege that
was to last for eleven weary months and prove the source of unnumbered
woes. In a comfortable leisurely fashion they proceeded to break
ground, to open trenches, and approach the enemy's still unfinished
works by parallel and sap. The siege-train--the British War Minister's
fatal gift, encouraging as it did the policy of delay--was landed, as
were vast supplies of ammunition and warlike stores. Tents, too, were
brought up to the front, and the allied encampment soon covered the
plateau from the Tchernaya to the sea. The troops soon settled down in
their new quarters, and the heights before Sebastopol grew gradually a
hive of military industry, instinct with warlike sounds, teeming with
soldier life.

The Royal Picts found themselves posted on the uplands above the
Tchernaya valley, very near the extreme right of the British front,
and here they took their share of the duties that now fell upon the
army, furnishing fatigue-parties to dig at the trenches, and armed
parties to cover them as they worked, and pickets by day and night to
watch the movements of the enemy.

Since McKay's official recommendation for a commission, he had been
entrusted with duties above his position as sergeant-major. The
adjutant had been badly wounded at the Alma, and it was generally
understood that when promoted McKay would succeed him. Meanwhile he
was entrusted with various special missions appertaining to the rank
he soon expected to receive.

One of these was his despatch to Balaclava to make inquiries for the
knapsacks of the regiment. They had been left on board ship, and the
transport had been expected daily in Balaclava harbour. The men were
sadly in want of a change of clothes, and neither these nor the little
odds and ends that go to make up a soldier's comfort were available
until they got their packs. McKay was directed to take a small party
with him to land the much-needed baggage and have it conveyed by hook
or crook to the front.

He left the camp late in the afternoon, and, striking the great
Woronzo