“Well, that’s only ten times as many,” said the captain laughingly, “Fifty are more than enough for such an attack, for we have discipline on our side, while they are only a mob. Don’t you be afraid, my boy. I daresay we shall prove too many for them.”
“I am not afraid,” said Bart, stoutly; “but I don’t want to see your party overwhelmed.”
“And you shall not see it overwhelmed, my boy,” replied the captain. “Do you see this sabre?”
“Yes,” said Bart, gazing with interest at the keen weapon the officer held out for his inspection. “It looks very sharp.”
“Well,” said the captain, smiling, “experience has taught that this is a more dangerous weapon than the great heavy two-handed swords men used to wield. Do you know why?”
“Oh! yes,” cried Bart; “while a man was swinging round a great two-handed sword, you could jump in and cut him down, or run him through with that.”
“Exactly,” said the captain, “and that’s why I only take fifty men with me into the desert instead of two hundred. My troop of fifty represent this keen sharp sword, with which blade I can strike and thrust at the Indians again and again, when a larger one would be awkward and slow. Do you see?”
“Ye–e–es!” said Bart, hesitating.
“You forget, my boy, how difficult it is to carry stores over the plain. All these waggons have to go as it is, and my experience teaches me that the lighter an attacking party is the better, especially when it has to deal with Indians.”
“And have these men ever fought with Indians?”