The part of the valley along which the survivors of that terrible charge were struggling bore dreadful testimony to the havoc which had been wrought. Men in the blue and white of Lancer and Dragoon, in the laced pelisse and crimson overalls of the Hussars, lay scattered about in every conceivable attitude of agony and death. Shattered horses and mangled riders lay around. Some men were seen limping painfully, helped by comrades, some even crawling, over the ground strewn with headdresses and accoutrements. And while the enemy still plied them with shot and shell, Cossacks clung to them, spearing without mercy the stragglers, cutting down those who were too weak to move. Besides which, little bands of the defeated Russian Lancers pursued remnants of the brigade till the Russian artillery, unwilling that any of the ill-fated cavalrymen should escape, opened with grape and shell on both friend and foe together. The Russians retreated, and the devoted few held on their way a little farther. Jack was hoping they would, after all, win back to where, still some distance ahead, he could see the scarlet coats of the Scots Greys, when Dainty suddenly fell dead-lame. Jack, who was in rear of the others, instantly dismounted and found the poor animal had been struck in the foreleg by a bullet. ‘Faithful friend, I will get you out of this inferno if I can,’ he muttered; and led Dainty, who limped on three legs, along for some distance. His comrades had got some way down the valley when two shells, in rapid succession, burst over them, and several men and horses, mostly of the Hussars, fell killed or wounded. While leading his limping horse Jack suddenly noticed on his right a dismounted man of his own regiment engaged with five Cossacks. He turned aside to help him just as a shell exploded close by him, one of the splinters of which struck poor Dainty, and, penetrating to her heart, killed her on the spot. Jack was dazed for a moment, but he recovered and ran towards his comrade. The shell which had killed Dainty had also killed three of the Cossacks. Jack, taking another from behind, ran him through, when the last man, after firing at Jack, galloped off. Jack now saw that the man he had come to rescue was Sergeant Barrymore. He stood over Captain Norreys, who was lying with his leg under a dead horse. ‘I found the captain lying pinned to the ground by his charger,’ said Barrymore, ‘and stayed to help him.’ ‘Go on, friend,’ said poor Captain Norreys in a weak voice; ‘I feel I’m done for.’ In truth, Captain Norreys was a terrible sight, his face being simply covered with blood, while his right arm was shattered, smashed by a bullet. ‘Never fear, sir; we’ll get you out of this or die with you,’ said Jack.