They rode steadily on a little farther, with the long column of horsemen coming on in excellent order, very different from those who had followed the Wazir and his chiefs, and Wyatt’s face grew darker.
“I say, little one,” he said suddenly, “if you don’t feel equal to this next scrimmage, you had better stop in the rear with the wagons when we go into action.”
“Thank you,” said Dick quietly. “Will you stop and keep me company?”
Wyatt laughed softly, and leaned over to grip his companion’s arm.
“Feel giddy now?”
“No; getting clearer.”
“Well, sit fast, lad, and take care of yourself. I’ll tell old Stubbs to keep an eye on you. I can’t stop near.”
“You let Stubbs see to his men. He has enough to do. Burnouse will take care of me. I wish I knew how Bob Hanson was getting on.”
“No time now. Hah! at last.”
For the trumpet called a halt, the wagons were cast off again, and, with every man he could muster, Hulton gave the word and the troop went off at a canter, to reach a knoll a few hundred yards away, where the guns were unlimbered, loaded, and the horses rested while the enemy was awaited, the intention being to give them two or three rounds to throw them into confusion as they formed up, and then gallop away.