But, as Sir Colin wrote to a friend, “it was a fight of the Highland Brigade. Lord Raglan came up afterwards, and sent for me. When I approached him I observed his eyes to fill and his lips and countenance to quiver. He gave me a cordial shake of the hand. The men cheered very much. I told them I was going to ask the Commander-in-Chief a great favour—that he would permit me to have the honour of wearing the Highland bonnet during the rest of the campaign, which pleased them very much. My men behaved nobly. I never saw troops march to battle with greater _sang-froid_ and order than those three Highland regiments.” Not long after, when Sir Colin Campbell was returning, he addressed the regiments of the Highland Brigade, never thinking how soon he would be called upon to lead them again. “Our native land,” he said, “will never forget the name of the Highland Brigade, and in some future war that nation will call for another one to equal this, which it will never surpass.” It was indeed a victory to be proud of. Three regiments had put to rout no fewer than twelve battalions, including the famous division of picked Czar’s Infantry. The Russians retreated before the Highland advance across the Belbec River, falling back towards Sevastopol, a strongly fortified place upon the shore of the Black Sea. It is probable that had the pursuit been carried out energetically, as Lord Raglan advised, the Russians would have been utterly dispersed, and the war concluded, but the delay enabled them to enter Sevastopol at their leisure, and in consequence of this movement the Allies decided to march across the Peninsula to Balaclava, and by forcing the action from that point to invest the Russian forces in Sevastopol by land and sea. CHAPTER XV THE ‘THIN RED LINE’ AT BALACLAVA (_October 25, 1854_) Gae bring my guid auld harp ance mair, gae bring it free and fast, For I maun sing anither sang, ere a’ my glee be past. And trow ye, as I sing, my lads, the burden o’t shall be, Auld Scotland’s howes, and Scotland’s knowes, and Scotland’s hills for me; I’ll drink a cup to Scotland yet, wi’ a’ the honours three. _Scotland Yet._