Cornet Leland heard the words, and, immediately saluting, he cried, ‘Will you allow me to carry the message for you, my lord?’ ‘Certainly, and then rejoin your regiment with your men; the fewer mounted men here the less likely we shall be to attract attention.’ ‘Follow me!’ cried Cornet Leland to Jack and Pearson, and immediately he galloped off. On through the hail of bullets again, across the river, and away to where Turner’s battery of Horse Artillery were doing grand work. Cornet Leland explained what was wanted, and at once the battery started. At a gallop, which threatened to overturn the nine-pounders, they made for the ford across the river. On their way one of the wheelers was killed and the leading gun came to a halt. Instantly the traces were cut, and, leaving the dead horse, on they went again. It was a tremendous struggle to get the guns up the steep bank, Jack and the others dismounting and pulling round the spokes till the perspiration poured off the men. Then on again over the steep, rugged ground till they reached the knoll. Only two guns had arrived, and the gunners had been left behind. The officers dismounted, unlimbered, and laid the guns themselves. They were pointed at the flank of the causeway batteries. The first shot failed, so did the second, but the third exploded right over the Russian battery and struck a tumbrel, which exploded with a tremendous roar. A few more shots followed, and then the Russians were seen limbering up and retiring. ‘Hurrah!’ cried several officers, ‘they are off!’ Cornet Leland and his men then departed to find their regiment. As they got near the great redoubt they saw the remnants of the gallant 7th Fusiliers still maintaining a great struggle with overwhelming masses of gray-coated infantrymen in glittering spiked helmets. The great mass came slowly, very slowly, forward with levelled bayonets as though to charge; but the Fusiliers, in groups and clusters, with no sort of formation, kept firing into them, losing heavily themselves, but doing much more execution. The sight was so fascinating that the Lancers stayed to watch it--stayed till the heroic resolution of the Fusiliers infused such terror into the hearts of the stricken Russians that with a kind of wailing cry they broke and retired, but only to form again. Farther on the Scots Fusilier Guards had advanced and been repulsed; the Grenadiers and Coldstreams, with a proud mien, were advancing, though they were being mowed down in long swathes. They literally staggered before the storm of shot, and an officer approaching Sir Colin Campbell said, ‘The brigade of Guards will be destroyed; ought it not to fall back?’ To which the stern old General replied, ‘It’s better, sir, that every man of her Majesty’s Guards should lie dead upon the field than that they should now turn their backs upon the enemy!’ There was no need for fear, however. The blood of the English was up; all they kept clamouring for was to be led forward.