The sounds of wheels and trampling hoofs could now be distinguished, and Jack went off. He judged he had gone some five hundred yards when, loath to go farther for fear he might not be able to take part in the capture, he halted on the summit of a small eminence.
The minutes went by slowly, and it seemed hours to Jack, who was listening intently to the increasing noise of wheels, before—Crash! rattle! bang! bang! bang! B-r-r-r-r—crash!—two volleys rang out.
Then ensued a terrible babel of shouts and cries.
Tan-ta-rara! tan-ta-rara! tan-ta-rara-ra! rang out Jack’s trumpet in the regimental call of the ‘Death or Glory Boys.’ Tum-ta-rara! tum-te-rara, tum-te! followed the rally.
The sounds of conflict grew louder; over and over again Jack rang out his calls. A thunder of horses’ hoofs sounded behind him.
‘Hallo,’ thought Jack, ‘that can’t be our fellows yet.’ He turned just in time to see two mounted men galloping up the rise towards him. He paused for a moment, uncertain who the new-comers were. Then he saw the stumpy figures and levelled lance-points. Heavens, they were Cossacks!
Jack let his bugle fall to his side; next moment he had his pistol in his left hand and his sword in his right. Aiming blindly, he fired at the two Russians. The foremost came to the ground, man and horse, with a crash. For a moment the other drew rein; then, with a sort of grunt, he charged.
Jack dashed across his front, making the pony swerve, and, getting on the Cossack’s left side, with a mighty sweep of his sword he cut him right out of his saddle.
The first man, whose horse had been badly wounded, got to his feet and ran off as fast as his legs would carry him.
Jack sounded again, and in a few seconds the thud of hoofs and jingle of accoutrements fell on his ear as the rest of the little cavalry force came up at a sharp pace.