Our hero was quite taken aback at thus publicly receiving so much “kudos,” and he felt not a little relieved when the conversation turned from his personal exploits to matters of more general interest.
“The campaign has opened with some hard fighting,” observed Major G—; “and I fully expect that Sandilli and his warriors will give us considerable trouble before we subdue them.”
“If they attack us to-morrow on the line of march we shall have our work cut out for us,” said another dragoon officer. “It will be no easy job to guard the waggons with the force we have.”
“No, indeed,” responded an artillery captain, who had some experience of South African warfare. “Thompson tells me that we have over a hundred bullock-waggons to escort, to say nothing of our guns and ammunition train. We shall have to fight tooth and nail to take them through. What route do you propose to take, major?”
“Well,” replied the major, “Jamieson, who knows the country thoroughly, advises me to follow the regular waggon-track—”
“Ir-regular waggon-track, major,” laughed Mr S—. “The roads about here are not macadamised, though there’s plenty of metal on the surface.”
“Well, then, the ir-regular waggon-track that runs along the banks of Keiskamma and skirts the high ground upon which the ruins of Fort Cox stand,” continued Major G— good-humouredly. “It is a somewhat circuitous route, but in this case the ‘longest way round is the shortest way there.’ No doubt we shall have to fight over every yard of the ground when once we are across the river.”
“’Pon my honour, Jamieson,” struck in an old captain of the Mounted Rifles, “Sandilli promises to give Somerset as much trouble as your old friend Marshal Soult gave the Duke!”
“As the Duke gave Soult, you mean?” was the retort.
“By the way, Jamieson,” said Major G—, “talking of Soult reminds me of your promise to give us an account of the part your old regiment played at Albuera. Suppose we have it now? It is just the time and place for an old campaigner to ‘fight his battles o’er again.’”