The position of the franc tireurs was now critical in the extreme. The enemy's cavalry--between them and safety, only a hundred yards distant--had unslung their carbines, and opened fire. The infantry were nearly two hundred yards behind but, fortunately, dared not fire for fear of hitting their own cavalry.
At a rapid pace--for they were running for life--the little knot of franc tireurs dashed forward. One or two fell from the fire of the cavalry and, as they were fifty yards distant from the wood, there was a cry and Philippe Duburg fell to the ground. In an instant Tim Doyle--who was his next man--stopped, caught him up as if he had been a feather and, with a desperate effort, again joined the others, just as they were within twenty yards of the cavalry.
"Fire!" Major Tempe cried; and from the front, and from each side of the little square--which was but six deep, either way--the rifles flashed out.
"Level bayonets; charge!"
There was a short struggle. The second ranks poured their fire into the cavalry line. There was a clashing of bayonets against swords, and then the band ran through the broken line of cavalry. There was a rush into the brushwood; and then, from behind the shelter of the trees, the fire opened again; and the cavalry fell sullenly back, having lost upwards of thirty men in that short five minutes since they had left the village.
The German infantry halted, at a distance of two hundred yards; but they would have lost too many men, in crossing the open, to make it worth while to attack the sheltered foe--who could pick them off, to the last moment, only to withdraw deeper into the forest when they approached its edge. Accordingly they too fell back, exchanging fire with the franc tireurs until they gained the shelter of the village.
The conflict over. The men sank, exhausted, upon the ground where they stood. Major Tempe went round to each; saying a word of praise, and giving a little of the brandy--with which he had filled his canteen, before starting--with some water from their own kegs. Then he gave a sharp whistle, and the men again gathered round him.
"Once more, lads, I must thank you for your conduct," he said. "You have defended yourselves against forces, altogether, four times your own. You fairly kept at bay an infantry force of twice your own number. You have withstood a charge of cavalry, also double your own strength; and have performed the unusual feat of successfully charging cavalry. You have inflicted a very heavy loss upon the enemy. Not less than forty of the infantry must have been placed hors de combat; and fifteen or twenty of the cavalry, at the lowest estimate. Altogether, although forced to fall back, the affair is more creditable than many a brilliant victory.
"Our own loss has been heavy--as heavy, in proportion to our numbers, as that of the enemy--though, owing to an advantage of position, while engaged with the infantry, it is actually far less than theirs. Still, lads, it is very, very heavy," and the major looked round, with a saddened face, on the diminished band.
"Our only consolation is that our friends have died doing their duty, and setting a noble example. If all Frenchmen were but animated with a spirit like that which, I am proud to say, animates the franc tireurs of Dijon, there are few of the invaders who would ever recross the Rhine.