I heard a shout, and saw him rush forward madly at the French column; and, as quick as thought, the whole brigade took their cue from him, officers and all, and flung themselves upon the Guard in front, while our comrades charged them on the flanks.

We had been waiting for the order, and they all thought now that it had been given; but you may take my word for it, that Jim Horscroft was the real leader of the brigade when we charged the Old Guard.
God knows what happened during that mad five minutes.

I remember putting my musket against a blue coat and pulling the trigger, and that the man could not fall because he was so wedged in the crowd; but I saw a horrid blotch upon the cloth, and a thin curl of smoke from it as if it had taken fire.

Then I found myself thrown up against two big Frenchmen, and so squeezed together, the three of us, that we could not raise a weapon.

One of them, a fellow with a very large nose, got his hand up to my throat, and I felt that I was a chicken in his grasp.
"_Rendez-vous, coqin; rendez-vous!_" said he, and then suddenly doubled up with a scream, for someone had stabbed him in the bowels with a bayonet.