The colonel looked at him. ‘Is it?’ he said faintly. ‘Are you the trumpeter whom I met first at the Alma? But I see you are. Tell me, who was your father?’ Jack’s replies soon proved to the wounded colonel that he was talking to his own nephew. ‘After Balaclava,’ he said, ‘I heard several times about you from Captain Norreys. Quite by accident I saw your name some months later returned amongst the missing as John Harrington Blair. I remembered hearing that my sister’s son had received her maiden name, and a suspicion of the truth dawned upon me. I determined to see you, but you were supposed to be dead. Only the other day I heard you had returned from captivity, and I rode over to your camp and left a note for you. Now we meet thus!’ They talked some time longer, and then Jack helped to take the colonel to his own tent, where he was made comfortable and put under the care of his servant, a thoroughly reliable old soldier. Jack then said he must return to his regiment, and the colonel took his hand. ‘My dear boy,’ he said, ‘it gives me very genuine pleasure to have found you, and that you are so much like my sister is an additional reason for liking you. I hope soon to be about again, and then I shall make it my business to push your promotion.’ Jack thanked his uncle for his good wishes; but he was more pleased over the joy he knew it would give his mother to be again on friendly terms with her family than he was at the promise of the colonel’s influence on his behalf. CHAPTER XLVII. HOMEWARD BOUND. Early next morning Jack was roused from his slumbers by Barrymore putting his head into the tent and shouting, ‘Jack, up with you, and come out. The Russians are scooting out of Sebastopol, and the town is ours.’ Had Jack received an electric shock he could not have leapt up quicker. In two minutes he was outside and hurrying off with Barrymore and Will to a place whence they could get a good view. There they saw dense clouds of black smoke rising from the town, while frequent violent explosions rent the air. The Russians had retreated across their bridge to the north side about two o’clock in the morning, having previously set fire to the town. The Malakoff was the key to the enemy’s position, and the loss of it compelled the Russians to evacuate the town. The attack upon the Redan, though unsuccessful, had drawn off a large force from the Malakoff, and thus rendered the task of the French much easier. As the news flew round the camp that the siege of Sebastopol, the longest in modern history, was over, tremendous cheers burst out. The most curious thing about it all to Jack was the cessation from the incessant crashing of guns. Not a single cannon boomed. Pickets were at once sent out to prevent any one from entering Sebastopol, and a general order was issued thanking all ranks for their efforts to take the town.