From them he learnt something of what had occurred.

The French had stormed the works on the left of the Russian front, and
had carried them once, twice, three times. The Russians had returned
again and again to recover their lost redoubts, but had been obliged
to surrender them in the end.

In the same way the English had attacked the ambuscades--what we call
the Quarries--and between night and dawn the Russians had made four
separate attempts to recover what had been lost at the first
onslaught.

"And now it is over?"

"No one can say. We have suffered fearfully; we are almost broken
down. If the enemy presses we shall have to give up the town."

"Pray God they may come on!" cried McKay, counting the moments till
relief came.

But bitter disappointment was again his portion. The day grew on, and,
instead of renewed firing, perfect quiet supervened. There was a
truce, he was told, on both sides, to bury the dead.

Now followed several dreary days, when hope had sunk again to its
lowest ebb, and all his worst apprehensions revived. It was like a
living death; he was a close prisoner, and never a word reached him
that any of his friends were concerning themselves with his miserable
fate.

Again there came a glimpse of hope. Surely there was good cause: in
the renewal of the bombardment, which, after an interval of a few
days, revived with yet fiercer intention and unwavering persistence.

Surely this meant another--possibly the final--and supreme attack?

The firing continued without intermission for four days. It was
increased and intensified by an attack of the allied fleet upon the
seaward batteries. This new bombardment made itself evident from the
direction of the sounds, and the merciless execution of the fiery
rockets that fell raging into the town.

At length, in the dead of night, McKay was aroused from fitful sleep
by the beating of drums and trumpets sounding the assembly.

It was a general alarm. Troops were heard hurrying to their stations
from all directions, and in the midst of it all was heard--for a
moment there had been a lull in the cannonade--a sharp, long-sustained
sound of musketry fire.

Evidently an attack, but on what points it was made, and how it fared,
McKay at first could have no idea. But, as he listened anxiously to
the sounds of conflict, it was clear that the tide of battle was
raging nearer to him now than on any previous occasion.

He waited anxiously, his heart beatin