In one of these encounters he had got separated from such
remnants of his squadron as still held together (you know even regiments
lost their unity in that terrible _melee_), the only man who still kept
near him was his covering-sergeant. All this while the fire from the
Russian guns on the hill-side grew heavier and heavier, while the cruel
grape-shot ripped through the mingled masses of friends and foes: making
sudden, unsightly gaps here and there, just as may be seen in a field of
ripe corn "laid" by the lashing hail. The good horse on which Keene was
mounted had not been out from England long enough to suffer materially
in wind or limb; he was in very fair condition, and had carried his
master splendidly so far, with equal luck in escaping any serious
injury. Five hundred yards more would have placed them in safety, within
the position where the Heavy Brigade was already moving up to cover the
retreat of their comrades, when the Templar, going at top-speed, pitched
suddenly forward, as a ship does when she founders; and, after rolling
once half over his rider, lay still, with limbs just faintly quivering.
Pages:
309
310
311
312
313
314
315
316
317
318
319
320
321
322
323
324
325
326
327
328
329
330
331
332
333