“Get up, Tiger! Up, Ginger!”
“Come over Baldy! Come over, you——!”
The wagon draws away from the dangerous edge, swings round, and, with rattling and bumping, descends into the wady-bed in a cloud of dust. The horses bend their backs to the opposite bank and are urged up by the drivers, who have risen in the stirrups and are leaning over their necks. With a last effort the team pulls forward, the wagon jolts over the top, and then stops.
Harry, who was thrown from his seat at the back of the cable-wagon as it bumped the wady-bed, comes limping up the slope. As he climbs into his seat he makes a remark to Gunner.
“That was a snifter!” he says.
“My oath! a beaut.”
More wady-beds open up, more detours are made, more dizzy descents and stiff ascents are negotiated, until, at last, the wagon draws in to Brigade Headquarters. The line is through, and everything is in readiness for the attack at dawn.