The sergeant managed to give one of them a tremendous gash across the hand with his sabre, on which he fell back, and the others, seeing the resolute attitude of the two Lancers, trotted off.
Again Jack and Barrymore took up the wounded officer, this time making a chair of their hands. On and on they staggered, until from sheer exhaustion Jack felt he could go no farther. He began to stumble, and at last Barrymore was compelled to stop. They were then almost at the end of the valley. They laid down their wounded officer again, but still determined to remain with him and die rather than leave him, though he was then unconscious.
They had stood thus for nearly a minute when they heard a cheer behind them, and a troop of the Scots Greys came up at a trot.
‘Come on, comrades,’ cried a hearty voice, and two Dragoons, having a stretcher with them, picked up the wounded Lancer and helped the faithful pair to carry him down the valley and out of the zone of fire.
CHAPTER XXXIV.
A NIGHT ON THE BATTLEFIELD.
WHEN Jack found himself once more out of danger, and the excitement of that terrible charge had died away, he became aware of a feeling of absolute weakness and helplessness, while his mouth and throat were so parched and dry that he felt he could not have spoken a word to save his life.
Many officers came crowding round shaking hands with him and Barrymore, congratulating them on their escape, and lauding their gallantry in standing by and rescuing their officer in face of the terrible odds they had to contend with.
A doctor and two assistants came up and took the insensible Captain Norreys in hand, while many questions were poured on Jack and the sergeant.
They had answered a few questions; and just then a French General came up, and, pointing to Captain Norreys, said, ‘Your officer, comrades?’
Jack and Barrymore, saluting, said he was.