Inch by inch, by sheer force of steel, we threaded our way through, re-formed on the further side, and, still headed by the colonel, dashed once more into the fray. This time the resistance was less obstinate. The Spaniards began to weary—to fall back, as if unable to hold their ground.
"Hurrah!" cried the young doctor, "hurrah! they're done for!"
I shall not easily forget the picture he made. His handsome face was flushed with excitement, his beautiful eyes were ablaze with light; he sat his horse erect as a young sapling. A handsomer or finer man could not have been.
I saw the tragedy from beginning to end, but could do nothing to prevent it. It was over quick as a flash of summer lightning. Before us rode a Spanish officer, calling fiercely on his men to come back. At the sound of the doctor's triumphant note he turned, and I saw his face black with anger.
"Ah, Englishman!" he cried savagely; and even as he spoke his left arm rose, there was a flash, a report, and the doctor fell forward on his horse's neck.
"See to him, Crawford!" cried the colonel huskily; and as I clutched the animal's bridle, the troopers swept on in hurricane fury, while from all parts of the battlefield there rose a cry of triumph.
CHAPTER VIII.
A FRIENDLY OPPONENT.
I had known the young English doctor only a short time, but I had learned to love him as a dear friend. In the fight he had shown himself brave and fearless, but quite apart from this, his qualities endeared him to every one. He was always cheery and full of hope, even in our worst straits; he was tender-hearted as a child, and every sick or wounded soldier worshipped him for his unvarying attention and kindness.