Meanwhile, Prince Eugene was having a lively time of it on the right wing.  He began by leading a cavalry charge against the French and Bavarians, who were under the command of Marsin and the Elector respectively.  In a few minutes he had forced back the front line and had captured a battery of six guns.  On he sped to confront the second line, and the opposing forces met with a tremendous shock.  For a moment all was doubtful, but the enemy stood their ground stoutly.  Eugene could make no impression and had to fall back.  By this time the scattered front line of the French had rallied, and, in spite of the Prince’s desperate efforts, the battery was retaken.  The danger to that division of the allied forces soon became extreme.  To save the day, Eugene immediately galloped away in person, and returned presently, bringing a body of Prussian infantry he had in reserve.  The help of these alone saved him from defeat.

At last!  Blackett and his comrades were ordered to advance, and moved towards the Nebel.  The ground was in a shockingly bad state.  At its best marshy and water-logged, it was now a sea of mire.  The worst spots had been bridged over, as it were, by the help of fascines, with here and there pontoons.  By this time, however, many of these had been shifted from their places by the passage of so many thousands of horse, and the road became worse and worse as the burn was neared.  In one place the men were compelled to come to a full stop, the ground being simply impassable.

“We cannot advance, gentlemen,” cried the colonel commanding the regiment, “till we have done some repairs.  Now for willing hands!”

Some of the officers glanced dubiously at the mud in which the horses were standing knee-deep, and they did not budge.  Not so Matthew Blackett; with a bound he sprang to the ground, and waded through the mire, half of his long legs submerged, his brethren endeavouring to keep their countenances.

“That’s the right way!” sang out the colonel in high commendation, and a little crowd of the men following the example of the young lieutenant, the work of repairing the road was soon in rapid progress, the colonel standing by to direct the operations.  Other officers speedily came to help, rather ashamed to think that they had allowed the youngster to set them a lead.

“It’s nothing,” cried Matthew, cheerfully, as he toiled with a will.  “Many’s the time I’ve stood up to my waist in deadly-cold water digging out an old dog otter.”

The lad’s good-humour and willingness were infectious, and in a remarkably short space of time the track had been repaired.  Then, with many a joke at each other’s expense, the men remounted and pursued their journey, covered from head to foot with mire, but cheered by the colonel’s approving, “It will serve for all the rest of the horse, my lads.”

All this time the cavalry were wondering why Tallard took no steps to stop their passage, and none was more surprised than Marlborough himself.  He did not at the time know that Tallard had left his centre weak, by sending so many men into the village on the right.  Still less, of course, could the Duke know that Tallard was expecting a very easy victory.  Be that as it may, the Marshal made no move till Marlborough had got a large part of his men across the stream and had formed his first line.