The grizzly features of the grenadiers soon appeared, and the dark column, half-climbing, half-running, were seen scaling the height. A rifle-bullet sent the French leader tumbling from the precipice; and a cheer--mad and reckless as the war-cry of an Indian--rent the sky, as the 71st and 79th Highlanders sprang upon the enemy. Our part was a short one; advancing in half squadrons, we were concealed from the observation of the enemy by the thick vineyards which skirted the lower town, waiting, with impatience, the moment when our gallant infantry should succeed in turning the tide of battle. We were ordered to dismount, and stood with our bridles on our arms, anxious and expectant. The charge of the French column was made close to where we were standing,--the inspiriting cheers of the officers, the loud _vivas_ of the men, were plainly heard by us as they rushed to the assault; but the space between us was intersected by walls and brushwood, which totally prevented the movements of cavalry. Fearlessly their dark column moved up the heights, fixing the bayonets as they went. No tirailleurs preceded them, but the tall shako of the Grenadier of the Guard was seen in the first rank. Long before the end of the column had passed us, the leading files were in action. A deafening peal of musketry--so loud, so dense, it seemed like artillery--burst forth. A volume of black smoke rolled heavily down from the heights and hid all from our view, except when the vivid lightning of the platoon firing rent the veil asunder, and showed us the troops almost in hand to hand conflict. “It’s Picton’s Division, I’m certain,” cried Merivale; “I hear the bagpipes of the Highlanders.” “You are right, sir,” said Hampden, “the Seventy-first are in the same brigade, and I know their bugles well. There they go again!” “Fourteenth! Fourteenth!” cried a voice from behind, and at the same moment, a staff officer, without his hat, and his horse bleeding from a recent sabre-cut, came up. “You must move to the rear, Colonel Merivale; the French have gained the heights! Move round by the causeway; bring up your squadrons as quickly as you can, and support the infantry!” In a moment we were in our saddles; but scarcely was the word “to fall in” given, when a loud cheer rent the very air; the musketry seemed suddenly to cease, and the dark mass which continued to struggle up the heights wavered, broke, and turned. “What can that be?” said Merivale. “What can it mean?” “I can tell you, sir,” said I, proudly, while I felt my heart throb as though it would bound from my bosom. “And what is it, boy? Speak!” “There it goes again! That was an Irish shout! The Eighty-eighth are at them!” “By Jove, here they come!” said Hampden. “God help the Frenchmen now!” The words were not well spoken, when the red coats of our gallant fellows were seen dashing through the vineyard. “The steel, boys; nothing but the steel!” shouted a loud voice from the crag above our heads.