342 WHISPERS FROM FAIRYLAND. (vii.

much lessened by the scientific engines of destruction
which modern warfare employs, were brought pro-
minently into play.

Whilst Ethelston was in the act of defending him-
self against the onslaught of three Russian soldiers, a
fourth had raised his weapon and was about to strike
a deadly blow upon his head with the butt-end, when
the sword of a British officer, anticipating the action,
was plunged into his heart. It was Moore, who im-
mediately turned further to assist his comrade, and
at that instant a glance of half-recognition passed
between them. There was no time for more; the
battle around them was too fierce and hot, the Russians
still vastly outnumbering their opponents, and main-
taining a desperate struggle for the possession of the
battery.

Only a few paces from the spot where the two
Etonians were engaged, a British officer of superior
rank, overpowered and wounded, was with difficulty
guarding himself from some dozen of the enemy who
had singled him out as the object of their attack.
Bareheaded, his grey locks streaming in the wind, and
already beaten down upon one knee, it was evident
that the old man could not long sustain the unequal
combat. Almost at the same moment Ethelston and
Moore caught sight of the scene, and rushed simul-
taneously forward, bursting through the ‘intervening
Russians with a desperate vehemence that overcame
all resistance.

Ethelston, destined to be first in this as in the
former less dangerous race, rushed headlong into
the fray as recklessly as he would have dashed into