“The safest thing would be to take off the heads of the principal conspirators; only that is impossible.”
“Why?”
“Because one is the Rajah’s mother, and the other the chief Brahmin. But I’m too tired to talk. Let’s visit the posts and then try and get a sleep.”
Chapter XXII.
How the Guns Worked.
The next day there was a repetition of the evolutions, the enemy having drawn off, but only to make another attack during the afternoon and receive further punishment from Wyatt’s troop, which was forced, by the desperate efforts to destroy it, into a series of retreating tactics which took them miles away over the open ground, upon which they could turn and fire over and over again.
The punishment inflicted by the well-served guns was terrible, and the enemy’s cavalry was never allowed to get within touch, the horse artillery galloping away to take up position as often as could be on high ground, till well on in the day, when, enough having been done without loss, it was Wyatt’s intention to make for the city gates and take refuge there.
But the enemy’s swordsmen were not beaten. They kept on following up with desperate pertinacity, their leaders seeing that until the Rajah’s new allies were destroyed there was no chance of winning the day. Hence it was that, towards sunset, Wyatt found himself quite unsupported half-a-dozen miles from the city, and with a strong body of cavalry between him and safety.
“There are two ways open, Dick,” said Wyatt as they waited, breathing their horses at the top of a slope, the enemy a thousand yards away awaiting their coming, and so posted that, if the troop advanced upon the main body, a wing thrown out on either side would close in and take them as in a trap.
Wyatt stood with his arm through his bridle, talking with Dick as he watched the enemy’s movements through his glass.