Mashangombi's was the rat-hole,
Which we had to draw ere day,
Heedless whether this or that hole--
If we only found a way;
Up among the iron furrows
Of the rocks, where hid in burrows
Safe the rats in shelter lay.
No misgiving, not a fear--
Nor was I the last astraddle
Nor the hindmost in the rear
When the bugle sounded clear--
"Boot and saddle!"
Right away went men and horses,
Both as eager for the fun;
Through the drifts and dried-up courses,
Where like mad the waters run
After storms or through the winters,
Mashing all they meet to splinters--
Ready, hand and sword and gun.
Every eye was keen to mark,
And the tongue alone seemed idle
Every ear alert to hark
As we scanned each crevice dark--
Bit and bridle!
Here and there the startled chirrup
Of strange creatures, as we go,
Standing sometimes in the stirrup,
Just to get a bigger show;
Till we gain our point, the entry--
There the pass, no sign of sentry,
Not a sound above, below!
Clear the coast, the savage gave
Never hint to south or norward;
Was he napping in his cave,
With that quiet like the grave?--
Steady, forward!
Further in; the rats were sleeping;
We would grimly smoke them out,
With a dose of lead for keeping
And a fence of flame about;
They might wake perhaps from shelter,
At our bullets' ghastly pelter,
To the brief and bloody rout!--
But, next moment, we were wrapt
Down to saddle girth and leather
In the fire of foes unmapt;
_We_ were turned, and fairly trapt--
"Keep together!"
On they poured in thousands, hurling
Steel that stabbed and belching ball
From a host of rifles, curling
Serpent-wise around us all.
Front and flank and rear, they tumbled
Nearer, darker, as we fumbled--
Till we heard the Captain's call,
"Each man for himself, and back!"
So we rushed those rocky mazes,
With that torrent grim and black
Dealing ruin in our track--
Death and blazes!
Ah, that bullet! How it shattered
Vein and tissue to the bone;
Dropt me faint and blood-bespattered,
Helpless on a bed of stone!
While the mare which oft had eaten
From my hand, caressed, unbeaten,
Left her master doomed, alone.
Limply then I lay in dread,
Racked with torture, sick and under--
Hearing, as through vapours red
And with reeling heart and head,
Hoofs of thunder!
Was I dreaming? By the boulder
Where I huddled as I fell,
Stood the steed beside my shoulder
Faithful, fain to serve me well.
Whinnying softly, then, to screen me
From the foe, she knelt between me
And that circling human hell.
Tenderly she touched my face
With the nose that knew my petting,
Ripe for the last glorious race
And her comrade's own embrace--
Unforgetting!
O her haunches heaved and quivered
With the passion freely brought
For the life to be delivered,
Though she first with demons fought;
While her large eyes gleamed and glistened
And her ears down-pointing listened,
Waiting for the answer sought.
Till a sudden wave of might
Set me once again astraddle
On the seat of saving flight,
Plucked from very jaws of night--
Boot and saddle!