About noon the march began. The artillery--so little was apprehended from the enemy--took the lead; then the English cavalry and infantry, then the baggage, and, next, the French. The 4th British Division was left on the heights "to maintain the communication with the Katcha," until the new base had been secured. The march was most painful and harassing; but, leaving the infantry to tear their way through the low forest by compass, let us follow Lord Raglan. According to his wont, he rode on towards the front, taking the narrow bridle-path. The guns had halted when he came up, because they were entirely without support. Half a battalion of skirmishers might have destroyed all the horses, and killed the gunners. When Lord Raglan rode up, he sharply ordered them to resume their march, and passed on to the front. Suddenly he came softly back. As he emerged from the trees he saw a strange sight--a body of Russians, with a baggage-train, were moving northward along the road. It was the rear guard of Prince MenschikofF, on its way to join the army at Batchiserai. Lord Raglan eagerly inquired for the cavalry, and the cavalry were not to be found. Some time elapsed; the Russians, ignorant of the nearness of their foes, continued to march quietly along. Lord Raglan grew impatient, and sent officers in search of his light horse, while he placed his own escort and a troop of horse artillery in readiness to act. After some time, parts of two Hussar regiments were brought up, and the 2nd battalion of the Rifle Brigade; but the Russians had now detected the presence of an enemy on their left flank, and had begun to run. Then the guns opened, and the horsemen and light infantry went at the enemy, who, abandoning his waggons, fled hastily away. Neither Menschikoff nor Raglan had the slightest notion of one another's intentions during this extraordinary chapter of blunders.