“Pretty hot this, Conway,” Captain O’Connor said to Ralph.  “It’s not pleasant standing here being made a target of.”

“That it’s not,” Ralph said heartily.  “I call it horribly unpleasant.  I shouldn’t mind it so much if we were doing something.”

It was indeed trying for young soldiers under fire for the first time.  The French had got the range accurately, and every moment gaps were made in the line as the round shot plowed through them.  The officers walked backward and forward in front of their men with exhortations to stand steady.

“It will be our turn presently, lads,” Captain O’Connor said assuringly.  “We will turn the tables on them by and by, never fear.”

There was not long to wait.  Clouds of French skirmishers were seen advancing through the hedgerows, and stealing behind the thickets and woods that skirted the road, and a moment later the orders came for the light companies of all the regiments of Picton’s division to advance.

“Forward, lads!” Captain O’Connor said.  “It’s our turn now.  Keep cool and don’t waste your ammunition.”

With a cheer his company followed him.  Every hedge, bank, and tree that could afford shelter was seized upon, and a sharp crackling fire at once replied to that of the French skirmishers.  The light companies were then armed with far better weapons than those in use by the rest of the troops, and a soldier could have told at once by the sharp crackling sound along the front of the British line that it was the light companies that were engaged.  But now a heavy column of troops was seen advancing from the village held by the French; and this, as it approached the part of the line held by the Brunswickers, broke up into several columns.  The Germans were falling back, when the duke sent Picton’s two brigades to meet the enemy halfway.  The Ninety-second were left behind in reserve on the road, the light companies were called in, Picton placed himself in front of the long line, and with a tremendous cheer this advanced to meet the heavy French columns.

It was thus through the wars of the period that the English and French always fought:  the French in massive column, the English in long line.  Once again, as at Albuera and in many a stricken field, the line proved the conqueror.  Overlapping the columns opposed to it, pouring scathing volleys upon each flank, and then charging on the shaken mass with the bayonet, the British regiments drove the enemy back beyond the hedgerows, and were with difficulty restrained from following them up the face of the opposite hill.

On the right, however, the Brunswickers were suffering heavily from the cannonade of the French, and were only prevented from breaking by the coolness of their chief.  The Duke of Brunswick rode backward and forward in front of them, smoking his pipe and chatting cheerfully with his officers, seemingly unconscious of the storm of fire:  and even the most nervous of his young troops felt ashamed to show signs of faltering when their commander and chief set them such an example.  Four guns, which at his request Wellington had sent to him, came up and opened fire; but so completely were they overmatched that in five minutes two were disabled and the other two silenced.