"But it's all over, and we must retreat.

Give the word." "What! to retreat ?" cried Mark passionately.

"I'll die first." "It is not fair to the men to keep them longer." "Well, you're a soldier's son, and know best, I suppose.

Give the word yourself." Ralph hesitated, for his companion's words seemed to be tinged by a sneer, but he knew that it was madness to stay, and hesitating no longer, he gave the word to retire.
"We're not going back for your orders," said one of Mark's followers surlily.
"Yes, you are," cried his young master fiercely.

"Back home now.
March!" There was a low growling on both sides, but the orders were obeyed, and slowly and painfully the two parties, stiff with exertion, and smarting with wounds, filed over the steep stone-besprinkled slope.
As they walked down, the two lads drew closer together, and at last began to talk in a low voice about their failure.
"Head hurt much ?" said Ralph.
"Yes, horribly; and I've left that old iron pot behind.