in the other.

[Illustration: MIKE CAPTURING THE TRUMPETER.]

"How was it? How did he do it?"

"He broke his sword-arm with a blow, and the Frenchman's sabre fell to the
earth."

"Here he is, Mister Charles; and musha, but it's trouble he gave me to
catch him! And I hope your honor won't be displeased at me losing the brown
horse. I was obliged to let him go when the thief closed on me; but sure,
there he is! May I never, if he's not galloping into the lines by himself!"
As he spoke, my brown charger came cantering up to the squadrons, and took
his place in the line with the rest.

I had scarcely time to mount my horse, amidst a buzz of congratulations,
when our squadron was ordered to the front. Mixed up with detachments from
the Eleventh and Sixteenth, we continued to resist the enemy for about two
hours.

Our charges were quick, sharp, and successive, pouring in our numbers
wherever the enemy appeared for a moment to be broken, and then retreating
under cover of our infantry when the opposing cavalry came down upon us in
overwhelming numbers.

Nothing could be more perfect than the manner in which the different troops
relieved each other during this part of the day. When the French squadrons
advanced, ours met them as boldly. When the ground became no longer
tenable, we broke and fell back, and the bayonets of the infantry arrested
their progress. If the cavalry pressed heavily upon the squares, ours came
up to the relief, and as they were beaten back, the artillery opened upon
them with an avalanche of grape-shot.

I have seen many battles of greater duration and more important in result;
many there have been in which more tactic was displayed, and greater
combinations called forth,--but never did I witness a more desperate
hand-to-hand conflict than on the heights of El Bodon.

Baffled by our resistance, Montbrun advanced with the Cuirassiers of the
Guard. Riding down our advanced squadrons, they poured upon us like some
mighty river, overwhelming all before it, and charged, cheering, up the
heights. Our brave troopers were thrown back upon the artillery, and many
of them cut down beside the guns. The artillerymen and the drivers shared
the same fate, and the cannon were captured. A cheer of exultation burst
from the French, and their _vivas_ rent the air. Their exultation was
short-lived, and that cheer their death-cry; for the Fifth Foot, who had
hitherto lain concealed in the grass, sprang madly to th