At this moment, their danger was seen by the officer in command of the main body, and he signalled to the sergeant to retreat.

By some terrible mischance, the signal was misunderstood.  The men took it for the signal to charge.  Without a moment’s pause, straight up the slope, they charged on the run, cheering as they ran.

Some were killed by the spears that were thrown from the cliffs, before they had gone half way; some were stabbed as they reached the crest, and hurled backward from the precipice; two or three got to the top, and fought hand to hand with the Hillsmen.  They were outnumbered, seven to one; but when the last of the English soldiers lay dead, twice their number of Hillsmen lay dead around them!

When the relief party reached the spot, later in the day, they found the bodies of their comrades, full of wounds, huddled over and in the barricade, or crushed on the rocks below.  They were mutilated and battered, and bore every sign of the terrible struggle. But round both wrists of every British soldier was bound the red thread!

The Hillsmen had paid greater honour to their heroic foes than to the bravest of their own brave dead.

* * * * *

Another instance is the short poem, which, while being perfectly simple, is rich in suggestion of more than the young child will see for himself.  The following example shows the working out of details in order to provide a satisfactorily rounded story.

THE ELF AND THE DORMOUSE[1]

[Footnote 1:  Adapted from The Elf and the Dormouse, by Oliver Herford, in A Treasury of Verse for Little Children. (Harrap. 1s. net.)]

Once upon a time a dormouse lived in the wood with his mother.  She had made a snug little nest, but Sleepy-head, as she called her little mousie, loved to roam about among the grass and fallen leaves, and it was a hard task to keep him at home.  One day the mother went off as usual to look for food, leaving Sleepy-head curled up comfortably in a corner of the nest.  “He will lie there safely till I come back,” she thought.  Presently, however, Sleepy-head opened his eyes and thought he would like to take a walk out in the fresh air.  So he crept out of the nest and through the long grass that nodded over the hole in the bank.  He ran here and he ran there, stopping again and again to cock his little ears for sound of any creeping thing that might be close at hand.  His little fur coat was soft and silky as velvet.  Mother had licked it clean before starting her day’s work, you may be sure.  As Sleepy-head moved from place to place his long tail swayed from side to side and tickled the daisies so that they could not hold themselves still for laughing.