"By gad, sir—we're trapped!" said the Chief of Staff, jumping up. "Shall I order the brigades to form to the right, and meet this attack?"
"No," said Fearless, coolly eating his sandwich. "Get me some information."
"But they may decimate us in the meantime, sir."
"Get me information, please," was the quiet and more firm command.
Two aides-de-camp were sent at the gallop towards the mysterious force which had suddenly appeared and was furiously firing blank. They found the New Zealanders pressing on in three separate lines towards them.
"It's a proper trap," said one of the gallopers. "And look to our rear. There's more there. This flank business is a feint. They're trying to smash us behind, and they're 'cute enough not to fire a shot from that direction. Say, Brown, gallop back and tell the general, and I'll try and bluff this front line here." Away went the messenger while the other young staff officer galloped into the front line of New Zealanders.
"The New Zealanders will cease fire," said the daring galloper. His staff cap commanded the respect of an innocent subaltern. He blew his whistle. More whistles were heard. In two minutes all was comparatively still.
"You will commence firing again in fifteen minutes. Pass it along." Down the line went the false order. Smiling inwardly, the shrewd aide-de-camp galloped away. Meantime the Australian G.O.C. had acted vigorously. Throwing out two regiments to hold the feinting force on his right, he then turned the other brigades about. These were deployed at the double, sent forward with a rush, and, in three minutes, dug shelter trenches in the sand. They were ordered to keep low until the main body of the New Zealanders pressed the attack well home. It was an exciting moment. And the Maorilanders expected an easy win. On they came in their long skirmishing lines. At last they were within fifty yards of the hidden Australians.
"Rapid fire!"
Bang! Zrrrp—Boom! Boom! Boom! crashed rifles, Maxims, and guns. The New Zealanders were startled. Before they had recovered from their surprise, Fearless ordered the "Charge!" Like deerhounds, his men rose up and dashed pell-mell into the panic-stricken host. There was a shock, a wavering, and then a pell-mell rush to the rear. The Australians had won. They had not been surprised.