Now Napoleon had impressed upon Ney to act in a manner that must prove decisive. The British had to be swept entirely off the field--the fate of France depended upon this. Ney's position was a difficult one, especially as he saw that reinforcements were coming up against him. Accordingly, he attacked again vigorously, and sent two columns of cavalry down upon the posts held by the Gordons. But these met with a similar fate to those who had tried that way before. But Ney still persisted and the Gordons were suffering heavily. How the day would have gone, and what would have happened to our Highlanders had not the Guards come up on their left soon afterwards, military experts alone can conjecture; but even with their assistance--and very welcome it was--the Gordons were yet to experience a severer trial. It came in this way. Two columns of French infantry advanced rapidly, by means of the Charleroi road, and the outskirts of the wood of Bossu, and occupied a roadside house, with a thick hedge running some distance into a field, a part of their number gaining the cover of a thickly-hedged garden on the other side of the road. The main body of these troops, some 14,000 strong, took up a position in the rear of this garden. Colonel Cameron with difficulty curbed his eagerness to let his men go, but the Duke, who foresaw a prolonged struggle, refused to allow it. He was, as usual, waiting for the right moment. When that moment came, and the order was given, Cameron leapt the ditch, at the head of his men, with old General Barnes at his side, crying, "Come on, my old 92nd!" Then, to the shrill piping of the pibrochs, the intrepid Gordons leapt from the ditch and fell upon the enemy with an impetus that was irresistible. The bayonet did its terrible work, and the opposing column fell back in confusion. Meanwhile other sections advanced upon the hedged garden, the house, and the field hedge, suffering heavily from these points. It was in this advance that the staff of the colour was split into six pieces by three bullets, and the staff of the king's colour by one. It was here, too, that Cameron himself was wounded. Being shot in the groin, he lost control of his horse, which galloped away with him, and finally stopped suddenly before his own groom, who was holding a second horse. There Cameron, in a fainting condition, was thrown out of the saddle violently on to the road. Colonel Cameron died of his wound late that night, but not before he had learnt that the British arms had conquered--a fact which forms the theme of Sir Walter Scott's immortal verse: And Sunart rough, and wild Ardgour, And Morven long shall tell, And proud Ben Nevis hear with awe, How, upon bloody Quatre-Bras, Brave Cameron heard the wild hurrah Of conquest as he fell.