the struggle that was imminent the battle of Inkerman was
practically to be decided.

The Russian general had now resolved to make a concentrated attack in
column upon Pennefather's Ridge. He sent up another great mass from
the quarry ravine, flanked and covered by crowds of skirmishers. In
the centre, the vanguard pressed forward swiftly, drove back the
slender garrison of the Barrier, and advanced unchecked towards the
Ridge. There were no English troops to oppose their advance; a French
battalion only was close at hand, and they seemed to shrink from the
task of opposing the foe.

"They do not seem very firm, these Frenchmen," said Lord Raglan, who
was closely watching events. "Why, gracious goodness, they are giving
way! We must strengthen them by some of our own men. Bring up the
55th--they have re-formed, I see. Stay! what is that?"

As he spoke, an English staff officer was seen to ride up to the
wavering French battalion. From his raised hand and impassioned
gestures he was evidently addressing them. He was speaking in French,
too, it was clear, for his harangue had the effect of restoring
confidence in the shaken body. The battalion no longer stood
irresolute, but advanced to meet the foe.

"Excellently done!" cried Lord Raglan. "Find out for me at once who
that staff-officer is."

An aide-de-camp galloped quickly to the spot, and returned with the
answer--

"Mr. McKay, my lord, aide-de-camp to General Wilders."

"Remember that name, Airey, and see after the young fellow. But where
is his general?"

"Wounded, and gone to the rear, my lord," was the reply.

The bold demeanour of the French battalion restrained the advancing
enemy until some British troops could reach the threatened point. Then
together they met the advance. The Russian attack was now fully
developed, and his great column was well up the slopes of the ridge.
While the French, animated by the warm language of Pennefather,
stopped its head, a mad charge delivered by a small portion of the
55th broke into its flank.

The Russians halted, hesitating under this unexpected attack.
Pennefather instantly saw the check, and gave voice to a loud
"hurrah." The cry was taken up by his men, and the French drums came
to the front and sounded the _pas de charge_. With a wild burst of
enthusiasm, the allies, intermingled, raced forward, and once again
the foe was driven down the hill. At the same time his flanking
columns were met and forced back o