I enlisted
because I could not enter the British army and be a soldier in any
other way."

"With your friends'--your relatives'--approval?"

"With my mother's, certainly; and of those nearest me."

"Do you know General Wilders--here in the Crimea, I mean?"

"My regiment is in his brigade."

"Yes, yes! I am aware of that. But have you made yourself known to
him, I mean?"

The young sergeant-major knew that his gallantry at the Alma had won
him his general's approval, but he was too modest to refer to that
episode.

"I have never claimed the relationship, sir," he answered, simply, but
with proud reticence; "it would not have beseemed my position."

"Your sentiments do you credit, young man. That will do; you can
continue your march. Good-day!"

They parted; McKay and his men went on to Balaclava, the general
towards the Second Division camp.

"Curious meeting, that, Shadwell," said Sir Colin. "If I come across
Wilders I shall tell him the story. He might like to do his young
relative--a smart soldier evidently, or he would not be a
sergeant-major so early--a good turn."

CHAPTER XIII.

"NOT WAR!"

The spy, whatever his nationality, and however questionable his
antecedents, was right in the intelligence he had communicated. A
large Russian force was even then on the march from Tchorgorum,
pointing straight for the Balaclava plain. The enemy had regained
heart; emboldened by the constant influx of reinforcements, and the
inactivity of the allies, he had grown audacious, and was ready to try
a vigorous offensive. A blow well aimed at our communications and
delivered with intention might drive us back on our ships, perhaps
into the sea.

McKay had passed the night at Balaclava. The transport with the
knapsacks was not yet in port, and he was loth to return to camp
empty-handed. But next morning, soon after daylight, news came back
to the little seaside town that another battle was imminent, on the
plains outside.

The handful of Royal Picts were promptly mustered by their young
commander, and marched in the direction of the firing, which was
already heard, hot and heavy, towards the east.

As they left Balaclava, they encountered a crowd of Turkish soldiers
in full flight, making madly for the haven, and shouting, "Ship!
ship!" as they ran. McKay, gathering from this stampede that already
some serious conflict had begun, hurried forward to where he found a
line of red-coats drawn up behind a n