The little bugler comes down, and is at once taken to the fatherly heart of Papa Plauche, who declares him to be a sucking Hector, and is for adopting him as his son on the spot, but is restrained by thoughts of Madam Plauche. Sir Edward's main assault, with General Gibbs, meets no fairer fortune than falls to Colonel Rennie by the river. Confusion prevails on the threshold of the movement; for Colonel Mullins with his Forty-fourth refuses to go forward. Later he will be courtmartialed, and dismissed in disgrace. Just now, however, the recreant makes a shameful tangle of the English van. As a quickest method of setting the tangle straight, General Gibbs, as did Colonel Rennie, orders a charge. The column moves forward, the mutinous Forty-fourth on the right flank, led by its major. General Gibbs advances, brushing with the shoulder of his corps, the cypress swamp. Behind the mud walls in his front, the steady hunting-shirt men are waiting. The General is there, to give the latter patience and hold them in even check. “Easy, boys!” he cries. “Remember your ranges! Don't fire until they are within two hundred yards!” On rush the English. At six hundred yards they are met by the fire of the artillery. They heed it not, but press sullenly forward, closing up the gaps in their ranks, where the solid shot go crashing through, as fast as made. Five hundred yards, four hundred, three hundred! Still they come! Two hundred yards! And now the hunting-shirt men! A line of fire unending glances from right to left and left to right, along the crest of those mud walls, and Death begins his reaping. The head of the English column burns away, as though thrust into a furnace! The column wavers and welters like a red ship in a murky sea of smoke! It pauses, falteringly--disdaining to fly, yet unable to advance! “Forward, men!” shouts General Gibbs. “This is the way you should go!” As he points with his sword to those terrible mud walls, he falls riddled by the hunting-shirt men. CHAPTER XVII--THE SLAUGHTER AMONG THE STUBBLE WHEN the main advance begins, Sir Edward is in the center with the Highlanders. The latter are not to move until he has word of their success from General Keane with Rennie's rifle corps, and General Gibbs with the main column--the one by the river and the other by the cypress swamp. He has not long to wait; a courier dashes up from the river--eye haggard, disorder in his look! “General Keane?” cries Sir Edward, his apprehension on edge. “Fallen!” returns the courier hoarsely. “And Rennie?” “Dead. The Rifles are in full retreat!” Sir Edward stands like one stricken. Then he pulls himself together. “Bring on your Highlanders!” he cries to Colonel Dale. “We must force their lines in front of General Gibbs. It is our only chance!”