“Yes; I heard them turning out in the middle of the night.”

“And the consequence was they were ready for us at all points.  Our attacking parties at the Redan were met with a tremendous fire, and literally mowed down.  Our losses have been frightful.  All the generals—­Sir John Campbell, Lacy, yea, and Shadford—­are killed, and ever so many more.  It’s quite heartbreaking.”

“And will nothing more be tried to-day?”

“I fear not, although Lord Raglan is quite ready; but the French are very dispirited.  Goodness knows how it will end!  The only slice of luck is Eyre’s getting in here; but I doubt if he can remain.”

“Why not?”

“The enemy’s fire is too galling, and it appears to be on the increase.”

“I fancy they are bringing the ships’ broadsides to bear.”

“Yes, and we are bound to suffer severely.  But you, McKay; I see you are wounded.  We must try and get you to the rear.”

“Never mind me,” said McKay, pluckily; “I will take my chance and wait my turn.”

The chance did not come for many hours.  Eyre’s brigade continued to be terribly harassed; they were not strong enough to advance, yet they stoutly refused to retire.  The enemy’s fire continued to deal havoc amongst them; many officers and men were struck down; General Eyre himself was wounded severely in the head.

All this time they waited anxiously for support, but none appeared.  At length, as night fell, Colonel Adams, who had succeeded Eyre in the command, reluctantly decided to fall back.

The retreat was carried out slowly and in perfect order, without molestation from the enemy.  Now at last the wounded were removed on stretchers as carefully and tenderly as was possible.

McKay’s hurts had been seen to early in the day.  He was placed as far as possible out of fire, and his strength maintained by such stimulants as were available.

While the excitement lasted his pluck and endurance held out.  But there was a gradual falling-off of fire as the night advanced, and the pains of his wounds increased.  He suffered terribly from the motion as he was borne back to camp, and when at last they reached the shelter of a hospital-tent in the Third Division camp he was in a very bad way:  fits of wild delirium alternated with death-like insensibility.

But he was once more amongst his friends.  Next morning Lord Raglan, notwithstanding his heavy cares and preoccupation, sent over to inquire after him.

Many of the headquarter-staff came too, and Colonel Blythe was constantly at his bedside.

On the second day the bullet was removed from the leg, and from that moment the symptoms became more favourable.  Fever abated, and the wounds looked as though they would heal “at the first intention.”

“He will do well enough now,” said the doctor in charge of the case; “but he will want careful nursing—­better, I fear, than he can get in camp.”