'Forward with his troop,' was the answer.
'Are we walking in a ring, then, or are we the centre of a blessed brigade?' said the Major.
By this time there was silence all along the column. The horses were still; but, through the drive of the fine rain, men could hear the feet of many horses moving over stony ground.
'We're being stalked,' said Lieutenant Halley.
'They've no horses here. Besides they'd have fired before this,' said the Major. 'It's—it's villagers' ponies.'
'Then our horses would have neighed and spoilt the attack long ago.
They must have been near us for half an hour,' said the subaltern.
'Queer that we can't smell the horses,' said the Major, damping his finger and rubbing it on his nose as he sniffed up wind.
'Well, it's a bad start,' said the subaltern, shaking the wet from his overcoat. 'What shall we do, sir?'
'Get on,' said the Major. 'We shall catch it to-night.'
The column moved forward very gingerly for a few paces. Then there was an oath, a shower of blue sparks as shod hooves crashed on small stones, and a man rolled over with a jangle of accoutrements that would have waked the dead.