unted and entered the fort; the remainder,
leading their horses, returned to Barcelona.

The Marquis de Risbourg had no sooner entered the fort and taken the
command than he adopted a stratagem which nearly proved fatal to the
English hopes of success. He ordered his men to shout "Long live Charles
the Third!" and threw open the gates of the fort as if to surrender. The
Prince of Hesse Darmstadt, who commanded at this point, was completely
deceived, and he ordered Colonel Allen to advance with two hundred
and fifty men, while he himself followed with a company in reserve,
believing that the Spanish garrison had declared for King Charles.

The British advanced eagerly and in some disorder into the ditch, when
a terrible fire of musketry was suddenly opened upon them from the front
and flank. In vain they tried to defend themselves; the brave prince was
struck down by a mortal wound while endeavoring to encourage them,
and was carried to the rear, and Allen and two hundred men were taken
prisoners. The prince expired a few minutes later before there was time
for a doctor to examine his wound.

Peterborough, who had come up just at the end of the struggle, remained
with him till he died, and then hurried off to retrieve the fortune of
the day, which, during these few minutes, had greatly changed. Velasco
had dispatched three thousand men, as fast as they could be got
together, to follow Risbourg's dragoons to the succor of the fort, and
these were already in sight. But this was not all. One of the strange
panics which occasionally attack even the best troops had seized the
British in the bastion.

Without any apparent cause, without a shot being fired at them from the
fort, they fell into confusion. Their commander, Lord Charlemont, shared
the panic, and gave orders for a retreat. The march soon became a rout,
and the men fled in confusion from the position which they had just
before so bravely won.

Captain Carleton, a staff officer, disengaged himself from the throng
of fugitives and rode off to inform the earl, who was reconnoitering
the approaching Spaniards, of what had taken place. Peterborough at once
turned his horse, and, followed by Carleton and Jack Stilwell, galloped
up the hill. He drew his sword and threw away the scabbard as he met
the troops, already halfway down the hill, and, dismounting, shouted to
them:

"I am sure all brave men will follow me. Will you bear the infamy of
having deserted your pos