But nothing could check the victorious rush.
When his revolver was empty, Dennis drew the sword attached to the saddle, and though he could not distinctly remember what happened, he saw that the blade was red from point to forte, when a parapet stopped the charge, and voices shouted "Retire!"
They streamed back in any sort of order, laughing like schoolboys; and though a few saddles had been emptied, they carried thirty-two prisoners with them—men whose courage had failed at the sight of their glittering lance-points, with the driving force of the galloping steeds behind them.
It had been short and sharp, perhaps a little foolish, but it had been a charge in the old style, and no one minded a cut or a slash when the squadron sergeant-majors formed them up again in the hollow from which they had started.
"Great, eh?" said their leader, binding a silk handkerchief round his wrist.
"Yes, I think it was worth it," laughed Dennis, tying the knots for him.
"I should rather think it was. Didn't some poet Johnny say something about 'one crowded hour of glorious life'? And by gad, boy, if you only knew how we've been eating our hearts out to get a show! Now you can do as you like, but we're going to work up along that wood over yonder. That's Delville Wood, you know. You're miles from your crush."
"Then I'll come with you if I may," responded Dennis, as the line opened out and pushed slowly forward on reconnaissance.
They had not gone very far when machine-guns on their front suddenly opened, and this time the leader deemed discretion the better part of valour. Besides, an aeroplane flying very low came over their heads, and for some minutes they were uncertain whether it was an enemy craft or no, until it swooped above the hidden enemy among the corn and opened fire upon them.
"By Jupiter, that's a good plucked 'un!" said the squadron commander, as the airman swooped for the fourth time before he flew away unscathed.