The left of the Coldstreams have their staff officers near to where the grenadier company of the 42nd now are, with Sir Colin at their head.
Down below the hill the discomfited regiments that Codrington is getting into order again are firing at random, up hill, on the redoubt.
It is the most critical part of the battle. In fact, since the Highlanders and Guards began to climb the heights we may call it a new battle.
Something tells us that we will not be beaten this time, but that we may leave our bodies on the field. See, yonder is brave and stalwart young Llewellyn. The ensign-bearer has fallen, but he has seized the colours; and his wild slogan can be heard high above the roar of battle as he urges us on. How gallant he looks! No wonder we follow.
But it is just at this moment that Sir Colin hears the voice of some staff officer of the Coldstreams advising the retreat of that fine regiment. The odds, he thought, were far too great.
"The brigade of the Guards," he cried, "will be cut to pieces. They should retire and recover their formation."
Then comes Sir Colin's answer, uttered in the wildness of angry passion, and sounding far and near over the field. "Better, sir," he shouts, "that every soldier in Her Majesty's Guards should lie dead upon the field, than that they should for a single moment turn their backs upon the foe!"
There is an answering cheer.
That brave voice seems to turn the whole tide of battle.
Then Sir Colin speaks to H.R.H. the Duke of Cambridge. "I counsel your Grace," he said, "to go straight on with the Guards. I will move up with the 42nd and turn the redoubt."