Over the din, came the well-known shout, “Men of the 150th prepare to charge.”
“Charge!”
And once more the indomitable British line hurled itself on the foe, who broke and fled just as the tramp of cavalry was heard, and three troops of the Lancers, among whom could be seen the brilliant uniforms of Brigadier Hope Grant’s staff, came sweeping over the plain.
The fight had lasted two hours, and was the only attack made on the British picket. The punishment inflicted by the Lancers was severe, and the 24-pounder took an active part in the pursuit.
The Kaffir Bride.
“Officers in command of regiments are requested to meet the Commander-in-chief at ten o’clock this evening.
“December 6, 1867.”
Such was the order placed in Major Hughes’s hands a few days after the desperate attack on the out-picket had been so gallantly repulsed. The loss of the regiment had been severe; but the men were in high spirits, and ready for everything, being proud both of themselves and of their commanding officer, whom the old soldiers of the corps had known as a youngster, and had learned to trust and to love.
Sir Colin Campbell, as he entered the tent which was to serve as the council-room, held out his hand, advancing to meet him as he did so. “I congratulate you, sir, on the gallant behaviour of your regiment. Your name will appear in General Orders to-morrow with an appointment as lieutenant-colonel of your corps, pending her Majesty’s approbation.”