Chapter Thirty Five.
The Net and the Fish.
The start was made more quickly than either West or Ingleborough had anticipated; in fact, the celerity was wonderful considering that the cavalry brigade was burdened with the great convoy of wagons captured from the Boers.
But there was a keen soldier in command, and one who knew how to be ready for every emergency likely to occur in an enemy’s country.
As the two despatch-riders mounted their ponies, the cavalry regiments were in motion, some taking up ground in advance and on the flanks, while two more, a Lancer and a Dragoon regiment, stood fast ready for action as rear-guard, giving the six-gun battery an opportunity to off-saddle and rest their horses, fresh from a twelve-mile march that morning.
The wagon lines were in perfect order, steadily moving off after two of the big newly-captured guns, freshly manned by picked crews, the other two being reserved for the centre of the train and taking up their position easily enough, drawn as they were by double teams of sturdy ponies which made them far more mobile than would have been the case if trusted to the slow-moving oxen.
“They won’t attempt to use those guns if we are attacked,” said West, as he watched the preparations going on; “our men will be quite ignorant of how to work them.”
“Our men will try if the necessity comes,” said Ingleborough confidently; “and that’s half the battle!”
“Yes,” said West; “but it’s hardly likely that the enemy will attack so well-armed a body of men.”