But the General learned his mistake soon enough. Scarcely had the infantry advanced many paces up the steep and rugged hills, ere, with a shout of defiance, the rebel Dutch dashed out from their ambush. The road between the ridges was narrow. Horse and foot made a simultaneous charge, and pouring the fire from their long roers right and left with unerring aim, laid many a gallant fellow low. Staggered at the unexpected appearance of five hundred men in a body, uncertain too of the numbers concealed behind the formidable rampart above, the infantry drew back. Sir Adrian galloped forward, a bullet took the peak from his forage-cap, he met the retiring infantry: he saw the madness of attempting to charge on such ground, and gave orders to retreat beyond gun-range till the artillery should come up, and be put in position. Lyle laughed aloud. The Boers, having expended their fire, retired before the infantry had time to return it with any kind of precision; five of the Dutch, however, lay stretched in their blood, and many came back wounded. The scene now, with the exception of the dead and wounded scattered about, presented the same appearance as at first--the British troops forming for the advance, the ridges silent, and apparently unpeopled. Madame Vander Roey, implicitly obedient to her husband's orders, sat where he had placed her, and with eyes of stone watched the sharp angle at the base of the ridge. The Boers came back in masses. She saw not Vander Roey; he was the very last, and then he turned and fired a parting shot at one gallant soldier who had lingered in rear of his company, and who paid the penalty of his imprudence--the roer's bullet laid him dead among the rocks. Having thus crippled the infantry, a great point was gained, for foot soldiers were the only people who could work in such a position; and as for the artillery, the ground was equally against that, or cavalry, following up what it might begin. So thought the Dutch; "but," thought Lyle and Gray and some twenty others, "they have never seen rocket practice!" "How d--d passive that fellow Gray looks," said Lyle to Brennard, as the latter, during the awful pause, held a parley with his colleague. "I never could make him out," replied Brennard, indifferently. "I think the fellow is half a fool." "He is no knave, certainly," said Lyle, contemptuously. The British force now began to move, in that determined way which proved it was in earnest, and having reached the points whence the artillery could work against the enemy, again halted. Lyle saw that the humane Sir Adrian was still awaiting a signal for peace, and what was his horror, his rage, when he saw Gray rise from his kneeling position, and leap on the rough parapet before him. There stood the young deserter, unarmed, erect, motionless, undaunted.