‘A convoy, Sir George—a convoy!’ cried Leland excitedly.
‘Wagons,’ murmured the General; ‘the very thing we want.’
‘Give me permission to charge with my troop and the wagons are yours, General,’ said Leland.
The General looked wistfully at the wagons; then said, ‘You haven’t got forty men with you.’
‘We’re a match for double that number,’ replied Leland; ‘let us go in, Sir George.’
‘It’s the true spirit of the old Peninsula days,’ said Sir George; ‘go in, my boy, and win. Attack them from each side.’
Cornet Leland turned to his troop, his face beaming with pleasure.
‘Form ranks from the right!’ he cried. ‘Sergeant Barrymore, take the right column; the left follow me! Trot march!’
In a very few seconds the two lines of Lancers were bearing down on the astonished Russians, who never dreamed that such a handful of men would have the impudence to attack them. Before they had recovered from their surprise the Lancers were close to them.
Then those Cossacks who marched in rear of the wagons faced about, formed in double column, and prepared to receive their enemy. They fired a sputtering volley; but the bullets flew wide, and only one man and two horses were hit.