agoon
Barracks, that the whole force was hurled on their right flank, before
they knew anything about it.

"There go Walpole's and Smith's guns," said the chief, as a heavy firing
was heard among the brick-fields and kilns under the city walls; "let
the whole line advance, I long to hear the scream of my brave
Highlanders."

Over the canal bridge poured regiment after regiment. Brigade after
brigade appearing in great confusion for a moment, and the next
re-forming their ranks, as regularly as though on parade. The long line
of the enemy's force lay before them, as pouring in volley upon volley,
the skirmishers being driven in, the British line struggled forward.

Colonel Biddulph was shot down. The gallant Dalzell, of the 93rd
Highlanders, was lying on the ground dead; he fell as he was leading his
regiment to the charge. Captain Wheatcroft, of the 6th Dragoons, Hardy
of the Royal Artillery, were moistening the plain with their hearts'
blood. Sir Colin Campbell himself was wounded, and eight of the staff
around him were more or less hurt. The Naval Brigade working their
twenty-four pounder, as though it were a plaything, had been dreadfully
cut up, but still above the roar of the guns, and the pattering of the
musketry, came the shout, "Forward!" not a man thought of retreat.

"Brigadier Greathead is hard pressed, Sir Colin," said a mounted
officer, dashing up.

"I can't spare a man, Major Robertson," replied the chief. "Tell him to
look to himself."

"Captain Heale, this for Sir Hope Grant; tell General Mansfield I want
him."

While the battle was thus hotly contested on the left, Brigadier
Greathead's little force found itself opposed to the enemy's centre.
Walpole's guns, it is true, were steadily clearing the brick-fields,
driving the enemy before them, but the Punjaub Infantry had already lost
ninety-five men, and the 150th were severely cut up.

"Within five minutes of receiving this you will charge the enemy's
centre, such are the chief's orders," exclaimed a staff officer,
galloping up, and handing over a small pencilled note.

The thing seemed impossible, and the Brigadier, amid the roar of the
battle, for a moment doubted his ears. The next, the word of command
was given, and pouring a shattering volley into the enemy's line, the
little brigade dashed on with the bayonet.

Precisely at the same moment, on the left, Sir Colin heard the scream of
his Highlanders, the whole British force das