"Death and fury! we are lost men. Our retreat is cut off! Stand to your arms," cried he, drawing his sword. "Form circle round the face of the rock,—show your front to them! Be cool, and steadily take your aim. Keep up your fire till the cavalry picquets in front of the wood ride to our rescue. Ha! the gallant 9th are in their saddles already." With coolness and precision his orders were obeyed. The brave little band, aware of the power of foot over horse, formed circle round the eminence, and opened a close and well-directed fire, before which the cuirassiers were compelled to waver, recoil, and stay for some minutes their headlong charge, being impeded and entangled with falling men and horses; and the former, if not dead when they fell, were soon trodden to death by the hoofs of the rear rank. "Charge!" cried the officer, a dashing fellow, who led them on. "_Charges en queue la troupe!_" and firing their pistols, they came furiously forward sword in hand, making the turf shake as they thundered along. It was a critical moment for the little band! A sharp twinge in his left shoulder informed Ronald that a pistol-shot had taken effect there, depriving him of the use of his arm; and several of his men lay killed and wounded among the feet of their comrades, who could not help feeling a little dismayed at the overwhelming number of their opponents. "Keep up your fire, brave Highlanders! stand fast, true Scotsmen!" cried Stuart, brandishing his claymore. "Aim deliberately and level low; strike below the corslet. Courage, my boys! ’tis all for our lives. They will kill, as they cannot capture. Hold your ground; keep shoulder to shoulder, and give them the bayonet at the face of the rocks. Hurrah! well done, my own brave comrades! We shall be rescued instantly." The cuirassiers advanced in a semi-circle boldly enough; but the steady fire of their opponents caused them again to recoil. "_Vive l’Empereur! Chateaufleur, Chateaufleur! retournez la charge. Charge!_" cried the officer again, and again the serried ranks came rushing on with renewed impetuosity; but they were once more driven back, leaving the ground strown with writhing men and steeds. A few resolutely pressed forward in the rashness of their daring, and struck at the defenders of the rock across the ridge of deadly bayonets which protruded over it. But they were at once destroyed, shot and bayoneted. One soldier, who was cut across the face, clubbed his musquet and dashed out the brains of his adversary. And one powerful French dragoon grasped the Serjeant of the picquet, and attempted to drag him down by main strength from the rock; but Ronald saved him, by plunging his sword through the corslet of the Frenchman, who tumbled from his saddle, and was dragged away down the ravine of the Albuera by his affrighted horse.