‘Heavens above!’ cried Barrymore in mighty tones. ‘Stand back there, men!—Jack, Jim, God bless you both! we’d given you up as dead months ago!’
The officer approached. It was Leland, no longer cornet, but captain. He stared a moment; then took the hands of the nondescripts as Barrymore had done.
‘Who are they?’ murmured a trooper fresh out from England.
‘Who are they?’ roared Barrymore. ‘Why, men who covered themselves with glory while you were learning your drill at Canterbury. They’re Sergeant Linham and “Blair of Balaclava.”’
‘Blair of Balaclava?’ cried the men, and then spontaneously there burst out a cheer, and in a moment the two heroes were seized, seated shoulder high, and, amidst the thundering plaudits of men who had heard of their deeds over and over again, despite their struggles they were carried to the headquarters of the regiment whose recent laurels they had borne no mean share in winning.
The two heroes were seized, seated shoulder high.