the moment, and we had a good look at them. It was funny to me to
remember that I had always thought of Frenchmen as small men; for there
was not one of that first company who could not have picked me up as if
I had been a child, and their great hats made them look taller yet.
They were hard, wizened, wiry fellows too, with fierce puckered eyes and
bristling moustaches, old soldiers who had fought and fought, week in,
week out, for many a year. And then, as I stood with my finger upon the
trigger waiting for the word to fire, my eye fell full upon the mounted
officer with his hat upon his sword, and I saw that it was de Lissac.

I saw it, and Jim did too. I heard a shout, and saw him rush forward
madly at the French column; and, as quick as thought, the whole brigade
took their cue from him, officers and all, and flung themselves upon the
Guard in front, while our comrades charged them on the flanks. We had
been waiting for the order, and they all thought now that it had been
given; but you may take my word for it, that Jim Horscroft was the real
leader of the brigade when we charged the Old Guard.

God knows what happened during that mad five minutes. I remember
putting my musket against a blue coat and pulling the trigger, and that
the man could not fall because he was so wedged in the crowd; but I saw
a horrid blotch upon the cloth, and a thin curl of smoke from it as if
it had taken fire. Then I found myself thrown up against two big
Frenchmen, and so squeezed together, the three of us, that we could not
raise a weapon. One of them, a fellow with a very large nose, got his
hand up to my throat, and I felt that I was a chicken in his grasp.
"_Rendez-vous, coqin; rendez-vous!_" said he, and then suddenly doubled
up with a scream, for someone had stabbed him in the bowels with a
bayonet. There was very little firing after the first sputter; but
there was the crash of butt against barrel, the short cries of stricken