'We had a bit of a scrap this afternoon, Billums,' Gerald told me, 'and lost a few people. Old Zorilla fought his way along to another clearing, but we captured some more of his cavalry, and he's left a field-gun behind him. The horses and rifles will be very useful to us.'
'How far off is he now?' I asked excitedly.
'About eight miles: Zorilla has halted for the night and our people are all round him again. He can't move till daylight. He has only advanced four miles since yesterday; his men are so played out, and his horses too. I can't understand him. It seems absolute folly to do what he is trying to do, especially as his chaps are deserting.'
My supper had made me rather sleepy, but presently, a long way in front of us, I heard the report of a rifle, and sat up so quickly that I bumped my back against that wretched saddle.
'That was a rifle! That's the first I've heard fired in war,' I cried out, and I felt fearfully excited, wondering where the bullet had gone. You bet that my ears were tingling to hear more, but none came for some time, only the crackling and rustling of dead branches snapping in the darkness on either side of us. Then three or four went off, still a long way ahead, and as each one cracked I could not help thinking: 'I wonder what that hit.'
Without meaning to do so, I dug my heels into Jim's ribs and made him go faster, but my brother sang out, 'No hurry, Billums,' and I pulled him back. I believe the little stallion was getting as excited as I was.
Away to the left there were some more shots, and then suddenly, right in our faces, a red glare shone through the trees, coming and going so quickly that I'd only time to say 'Oh!' before it had disappeared, and almost immediately afterwards there was another brighter glare and a tearing bursting noise. It didn't seem a hundred yards ahead of us, and the little stallion, Jim, began jumping about.
'What was that?' I sang out, though I knew perfectly well that it was a shell, but couldn't help singing out, my nerves were so jumpy. A scraggy spluttering volley came back from the trees, and then all was still again.
'Zorilla is firing a field-gun down the road,' my brother said; 'I wonder what good he thinks he is doing.'
I heard a crash and a noise of breaking branches. 'What's that, Gerald?'