Then Lyle, furious beyond control, raised his rifle, and fired; the ball struck the poor youth, who fell forward, and rolled down the face of the ridge into a rocky hollow, his blood marking his descent.
“Frankfort,” said Sir Adrian, “what can be the meaning of that?”
“I cannot tell, Sir,” replied Major Frankfort; “the man who so suddenly rose to our view was either a coward and panic-stricken, or a traitor to the cause he has enlisted in.”
“I rather think,” said Sir Adrian, “he is some poor victim enlisted against his will, who chose to die rather than fight against us. He must have been sure that either we or his own party would have shot him after such a manoeuvre.”
And then, too much occupied to give a second thought to the unfortunate young man, Sir Adrian proceeded to inspect his force.
But Lyle’s shot was received by Brennard as a signal, and forthwith he poured forth a volley from his flank. That to the left of the troops, and the right of the Boers, followed his example; but they miscalculated their distance, and did little mischief; it was returned, however, by a hearty salute of grape-shot, which, however, did little harm among the Dutch. Screened from their opponents, they affected to treat it with contempt, and Vander Roey, having dismounted and joined the line above, took off his hat, and gave an exalting cheer.
Then Lyle, and the gunners under him, made the great gun roar, as Lynx and Frolic described it, sitting at their mistress’s feet, and laughing impishly at the deadly game playing before them.
A sharp tongue of flame, and then a great volume of smoke, burst from a gap in the ridge, and the ball, moving swiftly through the air, fell into the very centre of the troops, and made a vacant space, where it burst.
The broken ground, the masked battery, the uncounted enemy, all were forgotten in the moment of indignation which followed this assault. Sir Adrian waved his cap, and advanced with his staff, but not too rapidly, giving time for the guns to work their way. The infantry proceeded in extended order. Another tongue of flame, another volume of smoke, threatened more mischief; but at this the force quickened its pace marvellously, and the ball fell harmlessly in the rear.
“Down the Trongate, my boys!” shouted an old grenadier of the Ninety —th,—the regiment was composed chiefly of Renfrewshire-men—“down the Trongate!” (Note 2) and away went the brave fellows over the rocky plain as steadily as though moving at the double along the peaceful streets of the old town of Glasgow.