“General Skobeleff,” wrote MacGahan to the _Daily News_, “was in a fearful state of excitement and fury. His cross of St. George twisted over his shoulder, his face black with powder and smoke, his eyes haggard and bloodshot, his voice quite gone. I never saw such a picture of battle as he presented.” But a few hours later the General was calm and collected. He said in a low, quiet voice: “I have done my best; I could do no more. My detachment is half destroyed; my regiments no longer exist; I have no officers left. They sent me no reinforcements. I have lost three guns!” “Why did they send you no help? Who was to blame?” “I blame nobody,” said Skobeleff; then solemnly crossing himself, he added: “It was the will of God--the will of God!” Skobeleff’s heroism was magnificent, and did much to nerve the common soldier to face the Turkish batteries; but success came not that way. Men and officers began to ask one another why the Czar did not send them the help of the great Todleben, who had defended Sebastopol so brilliantly. It seems that the Grand Duke Nicholas had nourished a grudge against Russia’s most eminent engineer, and had kept him out of all honourable employment. But Alexander had sent for Todleben, and this was the turn of the tide. Todleben came in such haste from Russia that he had brought no horses with him. Now he was at last in the Russian camp--a handsome, tall, dignified man of sixty, straight and active, and very affable to all. The attack was to be changed. No more deadly assaults in front, but a complete investment, and wait till famine steps in to make Osman submit. But Skobeleff had not yet finished with daring assaults. One day the “Green Hill,” which the Russians had taken under his command, was being endangered by Turkish sharp-shooters. Russian recruits who were posted near had fallen back in a scare, thrown down their rifles, and simply run like hares. Skobeleff met them in full flight, and in grim humour shouted: “Good health, my fine fellows--my fine, brave fellows!” The men halted and gave the customary salute, being very shamefaced withal. “You are all noble fellows; perfect heroes you are. I am proud to command you!” Silent and confounded, they shambled from one leg to another. “By the way,” said Skobeleff, still blandly smiling, “I do not see your rifles!” The men cast their eyes down and said not a word. “Where are your rifles, I ask you?” in a sterner tone. There was a painful silence, which Skobeleff broke with a voice of thunder. His face changed to an awful frown, his glance made the men cower. “So you have thrown away your weapons! You are cowards! You run away from Turks! You are a disgrace to your country! My God! Right about face! My children, follow me!”