“I’ll run the risk of that. Now, up with him, Tony,” answered Phil abruptly.
“Look here, old pal, this is my job,” said Tony stubbornly. “I owe yer a score, and I’ll take this fellow for yer.”
It was a generous impulse which prompted the gallant fellow, for to hamper one’s retreat with the body of a comrade was practically certain to lead to a fatal result. But Phil ended the matter promptly. His eyes gleamed savagely, and though, when all was over, he thanked Tony with tears in his eyes, yet now that his wishes were opposed, and he had set his heart on the matter, his temper got the better of him.
“Hand him over,” he hissed angrily. “Come, there is no time to waste; the men are falling-in again.”
Tony looked as though he could have wept, but he helped to pull the trooper up, and, having seen him into Phil’s arms, fell in behind, determined to bring his friend through or perish in the attempt.
“Rally, men! rally!” the officers were shouting, and at the sound the troopers came hurrying up. There was a short pause to allow stragglers to regain the ranks, and then, setting their heads down the valley, the remnant of that gallant 600 retreated at full gallop.
Bang! bang! The guns were blazing at them again; from behind and on either side grape and shell came shrieking at them. Then suddenly came the gleam of lances in front, and there stood a body of cavalry prepared to hedge them in and make them prisoners. As well set a mouse to catch a lion! These were the men who had ridden into the very “jaws of death”, into “the gates of hell”; and was one single regiment of cavalry to bar their retreat when they had fearlessly attacked an immense army? Ridiculous! And bracing themselves once more, the British horsemen swept them on either side as if with a broom, and torn, shattered, bleeding, and exhausted, returned, still exulting, to their friends.
Heroes indeed! Well has it been said of them, “Honour the Light Brigade, noble six hundred!”