“Well, is it all right? Is there water there?”
“Yes.”
“Is it good water?”
“I couldn’t tell.”
“Because the Matabele were there, and wouldn’t let us come near.”
So we saddled up and moved off towards the spot to await the arrival of more troops from Buluwayo, for I had sent my police–trooper back with a note to tell them there that “it was good enough,” and asking that Spreckley’s mounted column should be sent out to join us. Presently they came up, followed by a few volunteers in carts who wanted to join in the fun.
Our strength was 250 mounted men, with two guns and an ambulance.
The country was undulating veldt covered with brush, through which a line of mounted men could move at open files.
As we advanced, we formed into line, with both flanks thrown well forward—especially the right flank under Beal, which was to work round in rear of the enemy on to their line of retreat—a duty which was most successfully carried out.