A cheer on the right, and Pattison and his men threw themselves into the fray; another cheer, and the mighty Saunderson with half of his Red Marines came charging over; more revolver shots rang out, the Chinese began to give way, turned tail, and rushed down the slope, the huge bearded European last of all. As he bounded back he passed Hopkins’s prostrate body, bent down, lifted him up, and staggered away with him. "Let him go, men; don’t fire at him," shouted Cummins, and he disappeared into the bushes. Glover heard the Commander mutter, "What a silly fool I am!" The men stood up cheering like madmen; but firing started again from the bushes, bullets came whistling over, and they were ordered to take cover. Saunderson ran back to his breast-work with his men. "That was a pretty close shave, sir," said Williams, coming up and painfully reloading his revolver with his wounded hand. "A very close thing indeed," replied Cummins with a chuckle, as he reloaded his. Pattison lay on the ground without moving, blood pouring from his head; one man was dead, lying half over the sand-bags with a bullet through his chest; one had a bayonet wound in his thigh, and was sitting up trying to stanch the flow of blood; another sat stupid and half stunned with a blow on the head from the butt-end of a rifle. "Sing out for Dr. Richardson," said Cummins, bending over Pattison. "Here I am, sir," the Doctor answered, coming up with an axe in one hand and an empty revolver in the other. "I did not think it was the time to stand on professional etiquette, sir." "My word!" Williams burst out, "I saw that axe flying round, and, man alive! you saved a beggar from running me through." A cheer from Sergeant Haig’s breast-work made them turn round, and they saw the head of the _Strong Arm’s_ party just appearing over the shoulder of the hill, beyond the gun. If fifty men ever cheered loudly these did. "What about Pattison?" Cummins asked, before he hurried across to greet them. "Only stunned I think, sir; he’s coming round already," answered Dr. Richardson. * * * * * At the head of the _Strong Arm’s_ party was Captain Hunter, looking like an enormous school-boy out for a holiday, his great red face beaming with sheer joy, and sniffing the air as stray bullets flew by. He was followed on to the plateau by his men with the two Maxims and their tripod stands, box after box of ammunition, more breakers of water and more provision boxes, slung between them from poles across their shoulders, coolie fashion. The Commander hurried up to him. "Never expected to see you yourself, sir," he said, as Hunter grasped his hand.