Although he had been expecting it, the answering blaze of fire from the bushes on both flanks of the charging horsemen took even Max somewhat by surprise. Three horses fell in a bunch, and two turned tail and dashed back riderless the way they had come. Again, in a second or two, a scattering discharge came from the bushes; more men fell, and the remainder, their nerves obviously shaken by the unexpected attack, turned their horses' heads and rode madly away.
Five men, apparently dead, were left behind, among them the young officer in command, and three more lay wounded.
"Get their rifles and ammunition," ordered Corporal Shaw, and the unarmed men darted back and secured rifles and ammunition with an eagerness which showed how irksome they felt their inability to join in any fight that might be going. Seven rifles, six lances, and a revolver were secured, but all the lances except two were thrown away almost immediately as useless. The two retained were broken off half-way down the hafts, and their captors, two of the French soldiers, grinning with delight, sloped arms with them and fell in with their comrades fully satisfied with their share of the spoils.
"Not a bad business that," remarked Shaw coolly. "We have nearly enough rifles now, and ammunition for a regular battle. And it can come as soon as it likes. I'm fair sick of dodging these Germans."
"'Ear, 'ear!" chimed in the Londoner, whose name was Peck. "Give me a bit of cover, a packet of cigarettes, and a hundred rounds, and I'll die happy—eh, Corp?"
"Shut up, Peck, and get a move on," growled Shaw testily. "Did you find any grub?" he added. "I saw you going through their haversacks."
"Aye, enough to give us all a snack at our next 'alt," replied Peck, giving a knowing wink and pointing to his own bulging haversack and those of two pleased-looking Frenchmen close at his heels. "And no need, I presoom, to mention a matter of a few cigarettes the orfizer had to dispose of—cheap?" And he displayed the end of a large packet of cigarettes which he had been careful to take charge of himself.
"Forward—single file," commanded Shaw, and the band resumed its interrupted march towards the Bastogne railway.
"What d'ye think of 'em, Dale?" asked Max presently, indicating with a gesture the rest of the miscellaneous band of which they themselves now formed a part.
"A game lot; we shall see some fun presently," replied Dale in tones of deepest satisfaction. "They're just about ready for anything, from a Uhlan patrol to an army corps."