“Wait,” I said quickly. “When they are in position I’ll warn them, and through the open windows we can then shoot the horses. Remember, men, level your guns first at the men, and when I tell you, aim at the horses, and shoot straight.”
The timber was heavy, the afternoon hot, the men fatigued and with no great zest for the business, so that they took a long time before they had brought it round near the door.
Then I threw up the window sharply, and called, in a ringing voice:
“Stop! We sha’n’t allow that.”
Looking up, the troopers found themselves covered by the guns of our party, and, dropping the timber, they rushed like hares for cover—all save the leader, who flung curses at them for their cowardice.
“Now fire,” I said; and, levelling my rifle, I picked out a horse, and we fired our first volley.
“Quick! again!” and a second volley rang out.
The effect was indescribable. Five horses fell at the first round, and the rest stampeded and plunged so violently that any accurate aim the second time was very difficult. Only three fell, but the rest broke from their fastenings in a very frenzy of fear and galloped wildly off, plunging across country at a speed that made any thought of pursuit hopeless.
The men started to follow them, but were recalled by the leader, and came slinking back to cover like whipped dogs.
The loss of the horses was not their only misfortune, however, for in getting the log they had set down their carbines near the gate in a spot which we could cover with our guns. Seeing this, I called again: