At daybreak, on the fourth day, a large force of Turks was seen moving towards the Servian left flank; the Turkish commander was making a last bid for victory. Advancing in close formation the attacking columns suffered heavy losses from the fire of some batteries of howitzers. On other parts of the front an ominous calm prevailed. Servian soldiers were swarming in the ragged trenches which had been thrown up during the course of the battle. Priests in their flowing black robes were everywhere. Suddenly, from the centre of the Servian line, a salvo of guns gave a signal! It was the signal for the counter-attack. Surely, never since Friedland has such a sight been seen. As though by magic the space between the Turkish trenches and the Servian front was seamed by lines of infantry dashing recklessly forward with bayonets fixed. Their onrush was irresistible, the Turkish front was not pierced--it was swept away. Within one hour of that amazing charge the battle of Kumanovo was lost and won. The Turkish General’s last hope must have disappeared when a well-aimed refale from a group of Servian howitzers threw the massed squadrons of Ali Mechmet Pasha into hopeless confusion. Hundreds of riderless horses scoured the plain, and through them, ever pressing forward, surged the grey lines of Servia’s indomitable infantry. The Turks were not merely driven back, they were routed, a rabble of unarmed men fled across the plain to Uskub and spread panic in the town; no attempt was made to man the forts, a general _sauve qui peut_ took place; a well-equipped and numerous army melted away in headlong flight. By noon Uskub had ceased to be a Turkish town, its name was, once more, Skoplje. During the afternoon I came across some regiments, which had fought on the extreme right, forming up about five miles north of the town. The men grinned with pride and satisfaction as they showed the blood-stains on their bayonets; they had come far for this, but knew no fatigue. Though so fierce in battle and filled with blood-lust, they were curiously gentle in their ways with the wounded of both sides and their prisoners; one felt that one was with a lot of big, strong children who would bear almost anything up to a certain point, but that beyond that point it was most inadvisable to go. All sorts of wild stories were being circulated. It was said that a man, dressed in white and riding a white horse, had led the charge--many had seen the apparition, and had recognized Czar Lazar.