“Bring one of those horses here for me,” shouted the Colonel; and I now noticed that just ahead were half-a-dozen of the brave beasts whose saddles had been emptied but had kept their places in retreat, charge, and retreat again.
“That’s right,” cried the Colonel as he released my belt, so that I stood, hardly able to keep my feet as, with swimming eyes, I saw him stagger forward and mount the fresh charger, though evidently experiencing great suffering.
“Now then, my lad—Moray—what’s your name?—mount.”
His words seemed to galvanise and bring me back to a knowledge of my position, while Sandho helped to rouse me by turning and coming close up.
I hardly know how I did it, but I managed to climb into the saddle, and from that moment, as we cantered away together, with the bullets whizzing after us, the terrible burning sensation of exhaustion from which I suffered began to die out, and the throbbing of my brain steadied down.
“What are we going to do now, Denham?” I said at last, as, gazing straight ahead, I leaned over a little towards the left.
“Eh? Denham?” said a voice. “I’m not—”
“Ah!” I cried excitedly; “don’t, say the Lieutenant’s down!”
“Well, I won’t if you don’t want me to,” said the private at my side; “but he is, and pretty well half our poor fellows too.”
I uttered a groan, and down came the horrible feeling of depression again—a feeling I now knew to mean despair.