raw breath in a broad level valley below the height. That is to
say, the men reined up, but the horses, blown as they were, refused
to halt. There was unchristian language, the worse for being
delivered in a whisper, and you heard the saddles squeaking in the
darkness as the horses plunged.

The subaltern at the rear of one troop turned in his saddle and said
very softly:--

'Carter, what the blessed heavens are you doing at the rear? Bring
your men up, man.'

There was no answer, till a trooper replied:--

'Carter Sahib is forward--not there. There is nothing behind us.'

'There is,' said the subaltern. 'The squadron's walking on it's own
tail.'

Then the Major in command moved down to the rear swearing softly and
asking for the blood of Lieutenant Halley--the subaltern who had just
spoken.

'Look after your rearguard,' said the Major. 'Some of your infernal
thieves have got lost. They're at the head of the squadron, and
you're a several kinds of idiot.'

'Shall I tell off my men, sir?' said the subaltern sulkily, for he
was feeling wet and cold.

'Tell 'em off!' said the Major. '_Whip_ 'em off, by Gad! You're
squandering them all over the place. There's a troop behind you
_now_!'

'So I was thinking,' said the subaltern calmly. 'I have all my men
here, sir. Better speak to Carter.'

'Carter Sahib sends salaam and wants to know why the regiment is
stopping,' said a trooper to Lieutenant Halley.

'Where under heaven _is_ Carter?' said the Major.

'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