dread of the British bayonet, the
grey-coated host stood there doubtful and hesitating, and kept from
flying only by the press of men behind, unaware as yet of the trouble
which had befallen their comrades in advance.

"We'll play the same game again, my men," cried Phil coolly, as soon as
the retirement had been carried out. "Then we'll make for the barrier
and rejoin our friends. The 80th is there by now, and will be ready to
help us if we are in difficulties."

"What's that there, sir?" asked Tony suddenly, standing by his master's
side and pointing to the left. "That's a column of Russians, I reckon,
and if we're to get back to friends alive we'd best be quick about it.
See, they're already behind us."

Staring through the mist, Phil recognised with a start that the force of
Russians to the left, suffering less from the galling fire of the
British outposts, had recovered their wits, and, advancing up the
valley, were tramping past him and already deploying between himself and
the "barrier."

"Get together, men," he cried hastily. "Now, in two lines, and bayonets
to the front! Keep your fire till at close quarters!"

Springing to their feet, the outpost-party hastily fell in, and,
following Phil, who went some paces in front, retired at a ran, darting
round boulders and clumps of brushwood, and keeping as much under cover
as possible. But though they retired rapidly, the Russian ranks
deployed even more quickly, and while those to the far left pushed on
directly in their front, taking the course of a narrow ravine, others
spread towards the centre, hoping there to join hands with their
comrades.

And now an additional element of danger presented itself to Phil and his
comrades. Behind them they had left the bulk of the enemy hesitating
and uncertain how to act, and pouring an aimless and useless fire into
the cover which had concealed those who had done them so great a
mischief. At first firing independently and wildly, they had soon taken
to well-ordered volleys, and, there being no answer to these and no more
missiles of death flying through their ranks, they took courage and,
coaxed by their officers, advanced. Arrived at the brushwood cover,
they found not a single British soldier. Only deep footprints in the
mud, and the litter of twigs brought down by their own bullets, could be
seen, and recognising that they had been duped, they broke from a hiss
of excitement into a roar of fury, and, break