“Never was the saying, that fortune favours the brave, more signally verified, Jervoise,” Major Jamieson said, as he sat down to a rough breakfast with the officers of the Scottish company, on the morning after the Russian surrender.

“That’s true enough, but Russians are brave, too, as they showed at the end of the day.  I fancy you have a scotch proverb to the effect that ‘fou folk come to no harm.’  I think that is more applicable in the present case.”

The major laughed.

“The fou folk relates rather to drunkenness than madness, Jervoise.  But, of course, it would do for both.  I own that the whole enterprise did seem, to me, to be absolute madness, but the result has justified it.  That sudden snowstorm was the real cause of our victory, and, had it not been for that, I still think that we could not have succeeded.  The Russian cannon certainly continued to fire, but it was wholly at random, and they were taken by surprise when we suddenly appeared at the side of the ditch, while we were across before they could gather any force sufficient to defend it.

“After that, panic did the rest.  The commander in chief fell early into our hands.  There was no one to give orders, no one to rally them, and I expect the Russian soldiers gave us credit for having brought on that storm, to cover our assault, by the aid of malign spirits.

“Well, lads, and how did you feel when the shots were whistling about?”

“I did not like it at all, major,” Charlie said.  “It seemed such a strange thing, marching along in the thick of that snowstorm, hearing the rush of cannonballs overhead, and the boom of guns, and yet be unable to see anything but the rear files of the company in front.”

“It was an uncanny feeling, Charlie.  I felt it myself, and was very grateful that we were hidden from the enemy, who, of course, were blazing away in the direction in which they had last seen us.  We only lost three killed and twelve wounded, altogether, and I think those were, for the most part, hit by random shots.

“Well, if this is the way the king means to carry on war, we shall have enough of it before we are done.”

The sick and wounded were sent into the town, the first thing, but it was not until the Russians had all crossed the river that the king, himself, rode triumphantly into the place, surrounded by his staff, amid the wild enthusiasm of the inhabitants, whom his victory had saved from ruin and massacre.

The town, although strongly fortified, was not a large one, and its houses were so dilapidated, from the effects of the Russian bombardment, that but few of the troops could be accommodated there.  The rest were quartered in the Russian huts.  On the 26th, a solemn service of thanksgiving for the victory was celebrated, with a salute from all the cannon of the town and camp, and by salvos of musketry from the troops.