For an hour or more they were hotly engaged, the enemy falling
back inch by inch.
Then came ringing cheers. The French had abandoned the position; the
famous and hitherto impregnable line of defences had been broken. Our
heroes breathed more freely when a short respite came. But the
interval of rest was short. Colonel Rhodes, their commanding officer,
catching sight of the pair, as he was collecting his men again,
joyfully hailed them, and a minute later George and Matthew, provided
once more with mounts, were cantering with the rest to the renewed
attack. The enemy had made another stand some distance farther back.
Another struggle, and this second position was like wise carried, with
a grand sweep. Victory was at hand.
Suddenly a startling report ran through the English lines. The Duke
was missing! Where was the mighty General? was the question on every
lip. Somebody ran up and said a word to Colonel Rhodes. Instantly the
gallant officer and his men were galloping off to a distant part of
the field, the troopers wondering what was afoot. The explanation soon
appeared. Marlborough had become separated from the main body of his
army, and now, with but a very few men around him, was in imminent
danger of capture by the French troops, who were pouring thick upon
the spot.
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