e brown this time, Phil!"

"We'll have to wait, that's all," said Phil, with a sigh of resignation.
"We are safe here, and it won't be long before those fellows ride back.
See! they are already riding up the heights on our right after the
Turks who bolted into the other valley."

This was the case, and to follow the movement we must for the moment
leave the valley into which Phil looked, and ride with the Russian
horsemen over the Causeway heights.

Scarcely heard upon the springy turf, the horses' feet strike hard and
ring with a sound of iron upon the beaten path, and then the thunder of
a thousand hoofs dies down again as if by magic, and he who rides with
the fiery Cossack horsemen hears only the dull stamp upon the yielding
grass, and the clatter and jangle of sabres and accoutrements. And when
the summit is topped, another valley comes into view, running almost
parallel with that just left behind, and merely separated from it by the
Causeway heights, the slopes of which gently fall in rolling stretches
of green till the bottom is reached. From there the grass runs on,
undulating in big waves, sometimes falling and sometimes rising, till at
last an upward sweep brings the rider to a crest from which the narrow
basin of Balaclava can be seen.

Yes, there it is, a fairy pool set in this wide stretch of green, and
bearing upon its flashing surface a host of vessels, anchored and
crowded close together. There, too, is its narrow entrance, scarcely
wide enough to pass in two vessels side by side, and there, close beside
its shores, is an array of huts already filled with stores, while
outside, boxes of biscuit and barrels of salt pork are piled in huge
stacks which overtop and completely swamp the dwellings.

And where is the defending force? Where are the men told off to protect
this most important harbour and its valuable contents? The rider stares
and gasps with astonishment when all he sees is a handful of kilted men
standing to arms upon the sloping grass leading to the harbour. Long
ago their paucity of numbers was known to the enemy, and now the Russian
commander sends his Cossacks against them, hoping to sweep them aside
and capture the harbour.

Rallying to their comrades, a thousand lances swept down against the
thin line of 93rd Highlanders. It was a sufficiently imposing array to
have scattered a stronger body of troops, but the brawny kilted warriors
were maddened by the sight of the unhappy Tu