Some distance farther along they came to several dead horses; then men, all in the blue and white of their own regiment or the 13th Light Dragoons, either stretched out as though asleep, or lying in curiously huddled-up positions. Some of their comrades they recognised; in others, the nature of their wounds was such as to render this impossible. All were dead, however. As they proceeded farther the pale moonbeams showed some Hussars. Among them they came to a poor fellow of the 11th with one leg crushed, who from time to time moaned in agony. This man they were able to make more comfortable, and gave him a drink, for which he blessed them. They were moving farther along when they saw at a little distance from them another figure, crouching low as though to avoid detection. In an instant Will cocked his pistol. ‘Some murdering wretch robbing the wounded,’ he muttered. ‘I’ll put an end to his game.’ He was about to pull the trigger when Jack seized his arm. ‘Don’t fire,’ he said, ‘the Russians are in possession of the field and must be close to us. We shall bring them down on us. We are two to one; pick up one of these swords lying about and let us tackle him.’ They did so, and advanced towards the man, who as quickly retreated. As he did so Jack saw that the man was a soldier, and he seemed to be wearing a scarlet tunic. ‘He can’t be a Russian, Will,’ he said; ‘none of them wear scarlet.’ Then, raising his voice, he cried, ‘Hi there, who are you?’ The man in front, halted and turned round, when Jack and Will, getting nearer, to their surprise saw he was a British Dragoon. ‘Who are you, and what are you doing here?’ asked Jack. ‘I might as well ask you that,’ replied the Dragoon, recognising the uniform of the 17th; ‘but I’m Denis O’Callaghan of the Inniskillings, and I’m looking for my cousin Larry. He’s in the 8th Hussars, and I’m told he’s not with his regiment, so I could not rest till I tried to find the poor bhoy’s body.’ ‘He is one of my best friends,’ said Jack; ‘I’m here as much to find him as anybody.’ Together, then, the three searched, and presently they came across several Hussars in blue and yellow. One was lying on his face, and in an instant Jack saw the gold chevrons of a sergeant glittering faintly in the moonlight. There was a trumpet on his back too, and Jack’s heart grew heavy as he saw it. Gently he stepped up to the body and turned it over. Larry’s well-known features were exposed. Jack dropped on his knees and raised his friend’s head; his face was white as marble. He felt under the laced jacket; all was cold and still and silent, the faithful heart had ceased to beat. Tears, of which Jack was not ashamed, dropped on poor Larry’s face. ‘True comrade, faithful heart,’ Jack murmured, ‘God has willed that you shall never be trumpet-major of the 8th; but you have gone to join that nobler army in the ranks of which we must all sooner or later answer to our names.’