Ughtred slackened his reins about his horse’s neck, and turning round, called to Brand, who was sitting a few yards away making some rapid sketches. The King’s cheeks were flushed with colour, and his eyes were bright.
“What do you think of that, Brand?” he asked, proudly.
He pointed to where a cloud of dust hung round the last company of galloping Thetians. The roll of the drums and the shrill music of the fifes still reached them.
“They are born horsemen, and born soldiers, your Majesty,” Brand answered, with enthusiasm. “I only wish that there were more of them.”
Ughtred smiled.
“The mountains are our chief protection,” he said, with a little wave of his arm. “The passes through which men could be poured into Theos are narrow, and for defensive purposes a small, perfectly-trained army is sometimes as useful as a large one. I am proud of my army, Brand.”
“You have reason,” Brand answered. “I am even now trying to make Europe understand what manner of men these are.”
General Dartnoff came galloping up.
“If your Majesty will ride now to Pinter’s Pass,” he said, “you will be able to trace the progress of the attack.”