The messenger was sent off at the double; and as the retreating party marched on, the major continued to use his glass, shaking his head in his annoyance from time to time as he saw the Boer reinforcements closing up.
“Oh!” he groaned, “if we only had a lancer regiment somewhere on our flank, just to manoeuvre and keep out of sight till their chance came for a charge. Make them run—eh, Edwards?”
“Yes,” said the captain dryly; “but unfortunately we have no lancer regiment on our flank.”
“No,” replied the major; “and we must make the best of it.”
“Beg pardon, sir,” said Sergeant James to Dickenson; “but don’t it seem a pity?”
“What? To have got so far and not be able to get back unhurt?”
“I was thinking of the cattle, sir,” replied the sergeant gloomily. “Hungry and low as the poor lads are with the want of meat, it seems a sin to forsake all that raw roast-beef. It’s enough to make the men mutiny.”
“Not quite, sergeant,” replied his officer as he tramped steadily on. “But look forward; it doesn’t seem to make any difference. The baggage-guard has halted, but the oxen are marching on, following the wagons steadily enough.”
“Yes, sir; as the old lines used to say that I learnt at school, ‘It is their nature too.’”
“I suppose the enemy will divide, take a long reach round, and get ahead of the convoy.”