The light companies had been thrown forward as skirmishers, and Stuart’s fell into a sort of ambush formed by the enemy, who poured a destructive fire upon them. Lieutenant Evan Macpherson was killed, and a ball passed through the breast of Iverach, which laid him prostrate on the turf. He had previously been wounded in the left knee, but he had refused to retire from the field, protesting that he would fight while he had breath left in his body. Thrown into disorder by this unexpected volley, the company retired, and Ronald, as he staggered about confused by the concussion of a rifle-ball which grazed his left temple, heard the deep moans of pain which were uttered by poor Iverach. Regardless of the French fire he rushed forward, and raising him in his arms, bore him off in the face of the foe, who suspended their firing on witnessing the action, which gained Ronald the love and esteem of every soldier who beheld it. Two Highlanders soon relieved him of his burden, and carried Iverach, who was enduring great agony, to a place which was secure from the bullets of the enemy’s riflemen. He was laid at the back of a stone wall, which formed the boundary of a meadow or field. The first thing he cried for was water; and Stuart, filling his canteen in a muddy ditch, the only place from which he could procure it, held it to the hot quivering lips of the sufferer, who, after he had drunk greedily, expressed much more concern to behold blood trickling from Ronald’s temple, than for the probable issue of his own wound. Whenever he spoke, he was almost suffocated with his own blood; and ceasing the attempt, he leaned his head against the wall, and while tears trickled over his face, gazed with an eye of intense affection upon his master, who knelt down beside him, and as gently as a mother would have done, unclasped his accoutrements and opened his coat, that he might breathe more freely. Stuart, the assistant-surgeon, who had been sitting opportunely on the other side of the wall, ready for action, with his case of instruments displayed around him like a pedlar’s wares, whispered in Ronald’s ear with most medical composure, "It is all over with him, poor fellow! Rejoin your company before Cameron misses you: Iverach will die in ten minutes." "I cannot leave him," said Stuart, deeply distressed. "Oh, cannot you do something for him? I would yield all I possess on earth to save Evan’s life!" "He is bleeding more internally than outwardly, and were I to attempt to stop the discharge of blood from his mouth and breast, he would be instantly suffocated." "D—nation, Dick!" said Ronald angrily, "and will you leave him to die?" "He will die without my assistance: on my honour, I can do nothing! He is past my skill, and I have other work on hand. See how the wounded are pouring down from the height! I must indeed leave you."