right to be in touch with the left of the regiment holding Elvina."

"Very good. Tell General Fane that I will carry out his instructions.
Where is he now?"

"He is in the village, sir." Terence turned his horse to ride back. The
din of battle was almost bewildering. A desperate conflict was going on in
front of the village, where every wall was obstinately contested, the
regiment being hotly engaged with a French force that was rapidly
increasing in strength. The great French battery was sending its missiles
far overhead against the British position on the hill, the British guns
were playing on the French troops beyond the village, and the French light
field-pieces were pouring their fire into Elvina. Terence made his way
across the broken ground near the village. Galloping at a low stone wall,
the horse was in the act of rising to clear it when it was struck in the
head by a round shot. Terence was thrown far ahead over the wall, and fell
heavily head-foremost on a pile of stones covered by some low shrubs.

The shock was a terrible one, and for many hours he lay insensible. When
he recovered consciousness, he remained for some time wondering vaguely
where he was. Above him was a canopy of foliage, through which the rays of
the sun were streaming. A dead silence had succeeded the roar of battle.
He put his hand to his head, which was aching intolerably, and found that
his hair was thick with clotted blood.

"Yes, of course," he said to himself at last; "I was carrying a message to
Fane. I was just going to jump a wall and there was a sudden crash. I
remember--I flew out of the saddle--that is all I do remember. I have been
stunned, I suppose. How is it so quiet? I suppose the battle is over."