he fullest
credit, and the coming winter, with its terrible trials, was destined
to put his self-reliance to the proof.

It is time to return more particularly to our friends, who took part
in this hard-fought, glorious action.

By midday the worse part of the battle was over, and although Colonel
Blythe still clung to his Barrier, whence he launched forth small
parties to harass the retreating foe, McKay was released of his
attendance upon the acting brigadier, and suffered to follow his own
general to the rear.

They had carried poor old Wilders in a litter to one of the hospital
marquees in the rear of the Second Division camp. The aide-de-camp
found him perfectly conscious, with two doctors by his side.

McKay was allowed to enter into conversation with his chief.

"How does it go?" asked the old general, feebly, but with eager
interest.

"The enemy are in full retreat, sir; beaten all along the line."

"Thank Heaven!" said the general, as he sank back upon his pillow.

"How are you, sir?"

"Very weak. My fighting days are done."

"You must not say that, sir; the doctors will soon pull you round.
Won't you?" said McKay, looking round at the nearest surgeon's face.

"Of course. I have no fear, provided only the general will keep quiet,
and--"

"That means that I should go," said the aide-de-camp. "I shall be
close at hand, sir, for I mean to be chief nurse," and he left the
tent.

Outside the surgeon ended the sentence he had left incomplete.

"The general," he said, "will be in no immediate danger if we could
count upon his having proper care. With that, I think we could promise
to save his life."

"He shall have the most devoted attention from me," began McKay.

"We know that. But he wants more: the very best hospital treatment,
with all its comforts and appliances; and how can we possibly secure
these here on this bleak plateau?"

Just then one of the general's orderlies came in sight and approached
McKay.

"A letter, sir, for the general, marked 'Immediate.'"

"The general can attend to no correspondence. You know he has been
desperately wounded."

"Yes, sir, but the messenger would not take that for an answer."

"Who is he?"

"A seaman from Balaclava, belonging to some yacht that has just
arrived."

"Lord Lydstone's perhaps. That would indeed be fortunate," went on
McKay, turning to the doctor. "It is the general's cousin, you know;
and on board the yacht--if we could get him ther