him. In deference to the wishes of the Prince the Duke had made the
fatal mistake of waiting two days, and all that time the enemy had
been throwing up their formidable trenches. It was the famous field of
Malplaquet, the last on which Marlborough was fated to fight a pitched
battle. The object of Villars was to prevent the Allies from taking
Mons, not far away, to northwards, the siege of which was in progress.
Marlborough had lost heavily at Tournai; Villars, behind his defences,
had suffered comparatively little. But on the other hand the Prince of
Hesse had broken through the strong line of defence works which the
French had rapidly and skilfully thrown up. Now, here, at Malplaquet,
the Allies had a hard task before them. Villars held not only the
glade but the woods on either side, and, moreover, sat in safety
behind his extensive entrenchments.

For some reason not well understood the Duke for the first time began
the battle, though it would have seemed clearly his best policy to
endeavour to draw Villars from the strong position he held. There was
little in the way of fine tactics displayed, or even possible, on
either side; it was a question simply of sheer pluck and dogged
determination. The Highlanders, for the first time, had joined the
army of the Allies, and they and the famous Irish Brigade under
Villars specially distinguished themselves, if any detachment can be
said to have gained special distinction in a fight where all showed
such conspicuous gallantry.

Eugene was wounded behind the ear, but refused to withdraw and have
his wound dressed. "No," said he, "it will be time enough for that
when the fight is over." Villars was also badly hurt, yet he had a
chair brought, in which he sat to direct his men till he fainted.
Boufflers, the hero of Lille, took his place.

Charge after charge was made by the Allies into the woods, and
desperate fighting took place. Once and again Marlborough's troops
were repulsed with awful loss; as often they returned to the attack.
After four hours of heavy fighting the French fell back, and the
victory remained with the Allies.

Just before Villars sounded his retreat George Fairburn, who had
charged and fought all the while with his usual forgetfulness of
himself and of danger, found himself just outside the eastern edge of
the wood Taisniere, in company with the others of his troop. He was
almost exhausted with his efforts, and, besides, was hardly himself
again ye