'Jolly glad,' he said, sent for some paper, sat down with the soap
lather on his face and a towel round his waist, and wrote a reply.
'Wouldn't be the proper thing not to write it myself.'
'Tell Zorilla we found his horse, and have brought him into San
Fernando,' I sang out.
'Good stroke, Billums, good stroke. We'll send him back when he's
fit--always make friends of an enemy, especially if he's a good chap
like Zorilla,' and he added a postscript.
'Where is he?' I asked, as the messenger darted away.
'About three miles off--in another clearing, for the night.'
'But the horse won't be much good to him,' I said, remembering what the
Englishman had told me. 'You've got him surrounded, and he must
surrender, mustn't he?'
'Yes, I have,' Gerald smiled, 'three thousand men round about the same
number. I don't believe I have more--hundreds have gone off to their
homes with loot. I tell you what. Old Zorilla isn't beaten till he's
dead, and he may be up to any tricks to-night. It's seven miles to El
Castellar and it's eight to San Fernando, and he'll lose his job and his
reputation if he falls back on the fort. He's lost his guns, and he'll
get 'em back, and San Fernando too, if he dies for it. I know the dear
old chap.'
'I thought you'd won,' I said, feeling very worried.
'Oh, bother! You've never won in this country. The more you win, the
more enemies you make--there are plenty of people, on our side, who want
me out of it. That is why those chaps wouldn't obey you this
morning--they're as jealous as thieves. I run the show, and they don't
like it--a good many of them don't--not the men, the officers. They
want their siesta in the middle of the day, and eight hours' sleep
besides--it's the custom of the country--they don't get it. They've
always run revolutions on those lines, and I don't.'
He'd dressed himself now and brushed his yellow hair well back. 'That's
better; come along and have some grub.'
Well, I hadn't any appetite, but he had--and ate a jolly good meal in
spite of all the orderlies and officers coming and going. He did want
to dine on the open verandah, close to the road, but I thought of that
little beast creeping up with the revolver, and managed to get him into
an inside room, by complaining of the cold. The air was so still that
all the time he was eating we could hear firing going on far away in the
forest, but that didn't interfere with his appetite in the least.
'Zorilla's not made a move yet,' he said at last. 'Come and have a game
of billiards,' and we did actually play on a French table with balls as
big as oranges, in a room overlooking the sea, the cool breeze blowing
through wide-open windows, and the noise of rifle-shots almost drowned
by the lazy noise of the water on the beach. Jose, who seemed to follow
Gerald about like a dog, squatted in a corner, a young insurgent officer
scored for us, and Gerald, playing stiffly with his bad arm, was as keen
on beating me as if we had been in the pater's billiard-room at home.
We were half-way through the game, and he was piling up cannon after
cannon, sprawling over the table to make his strokes, and I was standing
at his side, when I suddenly heard something snap outside, saw the
insurgent officer look out--fright on his face--turned my head, and
there was that little beast, with a joyful smile on his ugly face,
pointing a revolver straight through the window at Gerald.
I don't know how I did it, but I'd pulled Gerald off the table, and he
was sprawling on the floor, before the room filled with smoke and noise,
and a bullet had cut clean across the green cloth. I saw the insurgent
officer whip out a revolver and fire, I sprang out into the dark with
mine, and Jose, with a yell, a _machete_ in his hand, dashed past me,
down on to the beach. But there wasn't a sign of any one.
People rushed into the room, the lights were knocked out, and then
Gerald sang out, asking what was the matter.
'My dear Billums, I wouldn't have had that happen for worlds,' he said,
when the lamps had been relighted, and I'd shown him where the bullet
had ripped across the table.
'What happen?' I asked.
'Why, you knocking me down, of course.'
He was quite hurt about it, and wanted to finish the game, said the cut
across the cloth would make it all the more 'sporting,' but the noise of
firing in the forest became more furious, and orderlies came in with
news that Zorilla was on the move at last.
Gerald wrote out more orders and shrugged his shoulders. 'He's marching
towards El Castellan. I suppose he thinks I shall try and prevent him.'
'But won't you?' I asked.
'My dear Billums, of course not; he can go there as fast as he likes.
He thinks I shall try and get in front of him, and then he'll double
back to San Fernando. Not much! Come along and we'll have a look
round.'
I followed him out of the Casino--it was quite dark, the forest
absolutely black--we mounted horses, and, with a lot of officers,
trotted down the road. I was so nervous and overwrought in the dark
lanes, which we presently rode through, that my heart thumped every time
I heard '_Quien Vive!_' or '_Que Gente!_' called out by sentries or
pickets we couldn't see, and the murmurs of '_Yuesencia!_' or '_Don
Geraldio!_' from hundreds of unseen mouths. Gerald found some officers
and seemed satisfied; somehow or other we got back, and the night was so
still, except for the distant firing, the rustling trees, and the very
faint noise of the sea, and the darkness was so intense, that I was
jolly glad to be inside the Casino again.
More orderlies were waiting for Gerald here, and a prisoner was dragged
into the light.
'That settles it,' he said decisively, looking at the poor, miserable,
frightened, whining brute. 'He's been caught in the El Castellar
direction--where they are advancing. He belongs to the 5th Santa Cruz
_Cazedores_--the worst fighters in the army. Old Zorilla wouldn't put
them there if he was in earnest. I'm going to bring back every man I can
get hold of, place them the other side of that stream--down the road
there--it runs nearly straight inland for four or five miles, and I wish
to goodness the moon would come out.'
Whilst he was speaking, a whole crowd of bare-footed riflemen and
_machetos_ went silently past, going back towards San Fernando, the
officers, haggard and dirty, stopping to salute Gerald and ask for
orders before disappearing after them. It was the noiselessness of them
all that was getting on my nerves, and the feeling of hopelessness at
not being able to speak to any one except Gerald. All this time, too, I
kept looking out for that ex-policeman, expecting him to spring out at
any moment.
Every one who came along I half expected to be he, and little Jose, I
think, did so too, standing close to Gerald, just like a cat, with a
_machete_ in his hand. Gerald saw it once, and made him throw it away,
but he picked it up again when Gerald wasn't looking.
The 'Gnome' appeared from somewhere, and I saw that my brother was very
glad to see him--he came across to me, and we bowed, and I squeezed his
hand. He was sent away along that stream with some men he'd brought.
'Come and finish our game of billiards, Billums,' Gerald sang out.
Honestly I don't know whether he was showing off, or was nervous, or
whether he did really want to finish it, but we heard a heavy carriage
splashing through that stream, and the new President--de Costa
himself--appeared. They both went into the Casino and, I was thankful
to see, into an upstairs room, where they couldn't be shot at. I went
with them and sat down in a chair--their voices seemed to be floating
away somewhere--and the next I know was that little Jose was pulling at
my sleeve, it was just getting light, very heavy firing was going on
close by, yells and shrieks were coming from the forest, and men were
running noisily along the road beneath the window. Gerald wasn't there.
I sprang up and followed Jose. The Casino was empty, and, as I dashed
out, a window, above me, broke and fell in little pieces at my feet. I
heard bullets flying everywhere.
I looked down towards the stream, and people were lying on the road,
beyond the ford, firing in our direction. Jose pulled me back behind
the Casino, and we ran along the shore, waded through the stream as it
flowed over the sands, and got behind our people. Gerald wasn't there
either, only the 'Gnome,' in his big hat, waddling backwards and
forwards.
[Illustration: William Wilson and the Gnome]
'Geraldio? Don Geraldio?' I asked, and he stopped a moment to point
away up stream.
He was trying to stop the shooting, because there was nobody in sight,
although bullets were flying past all the time, and very heavy firing
was going on further inland. He managed to stop it presently, and then
I had time to look round.
Just across the stream was the little wall under which the ex-policeman
had been sitting last night. It enclosed the garden of a small bungalow,
and one side of it ran along the road, and the other along the stream.
It was light enough for me to see the road running up to the Casino,
about a hundred and fifty yards further on--the black and green flag was
still hanging there--and about three hundred yards beyond this it turned
away to the left, and we could only see the glimmer of light on the
water. As far as I could tell, we had none of our people in front of
us, but it was impossible to make out anything in the forest, on the
left of the road, and it turned out that we still had a lot of chaps
there.
The 'Gnome' was extending his people down the beach, making them scrape
up a kind of breastwork in the sand, right down to the edge of the sea.
They began digging away like a lot of hungry wolves, and some of them
had found fishing nets, and were laying them down on the far side of the
stream. I suppose one always thinks the position one happens to be in
must be the main point of attack, and I wished to goodness that Gerald
would come along, for I didn't like the way the chaps lying in the road
kept looking back. I guessed that what Gerald had expected last night
had happened, and that Zorilla had turned at last, and thought what a
grand old chap he must be, after all his bad luck, to be able to make
his disheartened, half-starved troops attack us.
*CHAPTER X*
*The Fight round the Casino*
_Written by Sub-Lieutenant William Wilson, R.N._
Well, if Zorilla intended to try and cut his way past us into San
Fernando, I'd learnt enough about the old man to know that it would be
jolly hard work to stop him, and it struck me that the little chaps, on
each side of me, were not placed in a very good position to defend the
road and the beach, and that the 'Gnome,' however plucky a chap he was,
did not seem at all certain what to do.
The good sleep which I had had must have cleared my brain. Whatever was
the cause, I seemed to realise, all at once, exactly what ought to be
done. Of course I was tremendously excited, but I tried to calm myself
by imagining that this was only a sham-fight, and to think what would be
the natural thing to do.
It was all very well to make our little chaps lie down behind the ford
and behind the stream where it trickled down the beach, but, however
deep it was farther inland, it was so shallow here that it hardly
covered one's boots and wouldn't stop a cat. To stop where we were, and
leave that bungalow garden wall, on the enemy's side, unoccupied, was
perfectly silly, and I looked about to see if there was not something we
could use to barricade the road itself.
I saw those empty wagons standing in front of the Casino, and knew that
if we only pulled them across the road and put some of our chaps behind
them, it would be grand.
First of all, for that bungalow wall, I thought, and, almost before I
knew what I was doing, I found myself dashing across the stream, and
looking over it to see if it would be any use to make the little chaps
fire over it. But for the giant palms and ferns, in the garden, I could
see right along the road, and fellows behind it could easily sweep the
road with rifle-fire. I called Jose, and he came, then the 'Gnome' came,
stood on tip-toe, looked over, and knew exactly what I meant. I seized
a _machete_, jumped over the wall, and began lopping down the palms, and
in a minute he'd sent thirty or forty chaps to help me, and began
bringing riflemen over to line the wall--he made some climb on the roof
of the bungalow, too, where they could get even a better field of fire.
Now for those wagons, I thought, and began trotting down the road
towards the Casino, hoping that the others would come along as well, but
only Jose panted after me, singing out 'No, no!'
'_No, Senor, no!_' the Gnome shouted, but I wasn't going back, for
another idea came to me. How about the top of the Casino itself?
I got up to the Casino, dashed in, and ran upstairs--I knew that there
must be a way to the roof, as there were railings all round it, and it
was flat. I found a staircase leading up there, and was on top in a
jiffy, Jose following me and pulling me down to my knees, because,
directly my head had shown above the railings, there were yells from the
edge of the forest, and bullets came splattering against the house. I
wriggled myself to the edge and looked down, really only wanting to see
whether it commanded the road properly, but--my eye!--beyond that
corner, three hundred yards further along, collecting there, as far back
as I could see, were hundreds of cavalry, and the woods were thick with
infantry.
I beckoned to Jose, and he crawled across and looked too; his face got
almost white when he saw what I had seen.
I heard the people at the ford opening fire. '_Senor! Senor!_' Jose
cried, and pointed down into the road at our feet, and I saw there,
right below us, twenty or thirty regulars streaming across the road from
the forest to the front of the Casino--the leading ones were already
springing up the steps.
We were down off that roof like redshanks, and as we got down to the
first floor we heard them clambering up the main staircase. We raced
down the corridor and saw the first of them. They saw us and yelled. I
fired my revolver in their faces and dashed into a back bedroom, Jose
slamming the door behind us. I knew there was a verandah outside, and
we jumped out, swarmed down a supporting pillar--like monkeys--and swung
off back along the beach, the soldiers firing at us from the verandah
we'd just left. I split one of the knees of my riding breeches, I ran so
fast.
I didn't run so fast entirely on account of those bullets, but because I
wanted to let the 'Gnome' know what I had seen round that corner. Jose
told him, pointing up the road.
They had commenced firing at us now from the Casino; one of our chaps
kneeling in the road dropped his rifle and fell backwards, the 'Gnome's'
big hat spun round and fell on the ground. He picked it up, put a
finger through a bullet-hole, and stuck it on again. He didn't look
frightened, but muddled--he didn't seem to know what to do.
My aunt! it was all clear enough to me--now.
All that heavy firing, away on the left, where my brother had gone, was
merely Zorilla's bluff, just a piece with his pretending to fall back on
El Castellar, in the night, and he meant to make his real attack along
the road. As soon as his cavalry were ready he'd launch them along the
beach and across the ford, and simply gallop into San Fernando, clearing
the way for his infantry.
Oh, why wouldn't Gerald come and tell us what to do!
'_Geraldio! Don Geraldio!_' I shouted to Jose, pushing him to the left,
and he understood, and bolted along the edge of the stream in among the
trees where our little men were swarming.
We couldn't stay where we were, for the regulars simply rested their
rifles on the verandah and the window ledges and fired point-blank at
us. Several of our chaps, lying across the road, had been hit already,
and although the 'Gnome' brought more men and made them form a double
line, with fixed bayonets, ready to spring to their knees directly they
were wanted, they were terrified and kept turning to look backwards.
Every second I expected to see the cavalry come thundering round that
bend in the road, and I knew that we couldn't possibly stop them. Our
own chaps behind the low wall were certainly potting at the regulars in
the Casino, but they didn't even aim properly, they were too frightened,
simply popping up over the wall and firing haphazard.
Three more of our men were hit, the 'Gnome' couldn't make any more fill
their places, and I knew that, in a few minutes, those who were there
would creep back among the trees. The 'Gnome' stood in the middle of
the road, behind them, one hand on his sword-hilt and the other on his
revolver holster, as brave as a lion, but I could see that he hadn't an
idea what to do.
I knew, I knew well enough, that we couldn't stop the cavalry, but if we
could only capture the Casino and occupy that flat roof before they
charged, we might possibly check the advance of his infantry till Gerald
came back. I couldn't explain all this to the 'Gnome,' who stood there
looking stupid, with bullets flicking all round him.
Oh, why wouldn't Gerald come and lead them!--I couldn't.
I heard the sound of a horse galloping towards us--from behind--from San
Fernando way. Some one in white was coming along as hard as his horse
could go. Gerald at last, I thought, and my heart thumped with joy, but
it wasn't, it was Seymour. As he leapt off his horse it fell in the
road, dead, and before it had finished shuddering, half-a-dozen chaps
were fighting to take cover behind it.
'For God's sake, help!' I said, jumping towards him. 'Zorilla's cavalry
is all round that bend--the woods are full of his infantry--they're
firing at us from the windows of the Casino, and I can't make a soul
understand.'
'Where's your brother?' he said, out of breath.
'Over to the left--there's been very heavy firing there--I've sent to
tell him.'
'I've come on to tell him there's a pom-pom coming along the road--Jones
and Richardson are bringing it--it will be here in half an hour.'
Half an hour! Good God! In half an hour all would be over.
'We must capture the Casino,' I said, trembling with despair. 'They've
only about twenty men there at present. Tell him--tell that chap,'
pointing to the 'Gnome', who was kicking and cuffing some of the little
men, squirming on their bellies and fighting each other to get behind
two dead men who lay in the road.
'Right you are, old chap,' and Seymour shouted to him.
I saw his face clear, he dashed off, and in a couple of minutes had got
hold of some men--those who were lining the beach--harangued them, and
then we all rushed along the shore to the Casino. We were hidden, a
little, by that bungalow and the garden, but I saw several hit before we
got into the open, and then a dozen fell. Seymour was in front of me
with a _machete_ in his hand, I was a good second, and the 'Gnome' and
thirty or forty natives were close behind us. We poured over the
verandah into the billiard-room, but not a sign of any one was there,
and all the regulars were upstairs. Seymour yelled something, and some
of our fellows began firing up through the ceiling, bringing the plaster
down in clouds. I and some others dashed for the main staircase, but,
at the top, the regulars were gathered, and were firing down.
It was the most appalling din--rifles firing, mirrors and glasses
smashing, and wood-work splintering all round us. Our men wouldn't face
the stairs.
'There's a back staircase,' I heard Seymour yell, and I went after him.
We clattered up and burst on those chaps from the rear. There was a
scuffle, Seymour shouted down for our people to stop firing, and in five
minutes there wasn't a living regular in the house. Most of them had
escaped by sliding down from the verandah, and had run back into the
forest again, shooting at any one who went near a window.
'On the roof!' I heard Seymour shouting, and rushed back to find him
leaning on the banisters--the excited little brown men, thirsting for
more blood, crowding up the stairs, past him. He looked awfully white.
'What's the matter?' I yelled.
'Shot through the stomach--make these chaps line the roof.'
I saw the 'Gnome' dashing from room to room, placing his men at the
windows, and I rushed up to the roof, pushing all the chaps in front of
me, and made them lie down along the four edges, shoulder to shoulder
with their rifles pointing over the concrete ledge--across the beach at
the rear of the house, back towards the stream where Seymour's dead
horse was lying, across the road in front of the Casino, and, on the
fourth side, right along the road and round that bend in it. The
cavalry men were still clustered there, and they were so numerous that I
couldn't see the end of them among the trees; some were dismounted, so
that Zorilla evidently was not ready yet.
'Fire! Fire!' I yelled, pointing towards them, but the little chaps
seemed numbed and frightened at the sight of them and wouldn't fire. I
suppose they were overawed by the sight of the cavalry, or perhaps they
knew there would be no escape from that house if Zorilla's people won,
and feared to anger them. Perhaps, too, as no bullets were coming at
them they didn't want to draw their fire. Whatever it was I couldn't
get them to shoot, so I seized a man's rifle, kicked him out of the
way--pulled back the bolt to see if it was loaded--leant it against the
edge, aimed right in among the cavalry, and fired. I saw a horse fall
down in a heap, and his rider extricate himself, looking this way and
that to see where the bullet had come from. I fired again and
again--there was a stir among them--the little chaps on either side of
me bucked up and began to let off their rifles--the cavalry began
fidgeting, crowding and jostling together--more horses fell--there was a
sudden turning of the horses' heads, and they all began to retire. My
little chaps squealed with delight, the little fellow whose rifle I'd
bagged, seized it, imploring me with his black eyes to let him have a
turn, and I crawled away, breathing freely again, for the cavalry had
all retired behind the next bend in the road, and I knew that they were
not yet ready to charge. But we had drawn a tremendous fire from the
infantry in the woods, and we could not see any one to aim at.
Then I thought of Seymour, and jumped down the stairs to see what I
could do for him. He was still leaning on the banisters--deadly pale.
'The cavalry have retired. We've time for a breather. Show me where you
are hit.'
He pointed just below the middle of his stomach, and I knew what was the
only thing I could do, for Dr. Clegg had been teaching us 'first aid'
ever since we left Gibraltar. I tore a sheet off a bed, tore it in
strips, and wound them round his stomach as tightly as I could. 'For
God's sake, fetch me a drink,' he gasped, but Dr. Clegg had said: 'If
any of you get shot through the stomach, throw your water-bottle and
biscuits away and lie down. It's your only chance.'
'No, not a drop!' I said, and wanted him to lie down--he wouldn't.
'I'll go on the roof. I can help there.'
I carried him up, very gently, and laid him down in the middle--with the
little men's naked feet and their yellow soles and toes all round him.
I got a mattress, too, and made him lie on it.
'I can just see that bend in the road,' he said; 'I can manage all
right; get those wagons across the road.'
I had forgotten them. I ran below, slipped on the stairs--they were wet
with blood--steadied myself, and got down to the ground floor. The
'Gnome' was there, tying a table-napkin round the arm of a native. He
smiled at me.
'Wagons!' I shouted, pointing through the doorway to where they stood.
He knew what I meant, dropped the napkin, roared to his men, and they
began pouring out from the lower rooms. We ran across the road under a
very heavy fire, got hold of the wheels of one, and, shoving for all we
were worth, pushed it into the middle of the road. The man next me
fell, shrieking, and clutched my feet; I shook him off, and we rushed
back for another wagon, and were just getting a 'move' on it when I
heard yells of '_Yuesencia! Yuesencia!_' The little chaps on the roof
who were lining that side of the Casino began shouting, '_Don Geraldio!
Don Geraldio!_' and I saw Gerald galloping up to the ford and the few
men who still lined that garden wall. I shouted out 'Hurrah!' we all
shouted, and then came a roaring noise from the road, the clatter of
horses' hoofs, and round the bend thundered the cavalry. They were
coming along the beach too, their lances and pennons lowered--and my
fellows on the roof began firing like 'billy loo.'
'One more push--shove altogether!' I yelled. The front wheels were on
the road, but the rear ones stuck fast, and the 'Gnome' and his men
dashed back to the Casino.
Before I could follow them, Zorilla's cavalry were on top of me. I
dodged to the rear of the first wagon as they swept round it. Over it
went, there was a jumble of horses and men, and I was dashed to the
ground, my right leg jammed down by a horse. Troopers tried to cut at me
or get me with their lances, but they were swept along by those coming
behind them. The horse which was pinning me down half struggled to its
feet, I drew my leg away, and huddled under the wagon as they thundered
along the road to the ford.
[Illustration: "I DODGED TO THE REAR OF THE FIRST WAGON"]
I'd been knocked a bit 'silly,' and the next I know I was hobbling up
the stairs to the roof with my right leg giving me 'gyp,' and the little
brown chaps firing like mad.
'Look! Look!' Seymour cried, leaning on his elbows and pointing towards
San Fernando.
Oh! My God! The cavalry had swept clean across the stream and were
dashing madly along the road and beach, but behind them they left a
trail of dead and wounded men and horses. I saw some riderless horses
dashing backwards and forwards, and then had to lie down because the
firing was so heavy. I hadn't seen Gerald, and there seemed to be no
one alive at the ford.
'The infantry are advancing now,' Seymour told me, but it was that cloud
of cavalry galloping towards San Fernando that I couldn't take my eyes
off--there must have been five hundred of them, and we could hear the
noise they made though they were a mile away.
'D'you hear that?' Seymour cried; 'Jones and Richardson have started
firing.'
Hear! Why, I jumped to my feet and yelled with delight, for the
'pom--pom--pom--pom,' 'pom--pom--pom,' 'pom--pom--pom' and the
'crack--crack--crack' of the little one-pound shells bursting, told me
what had happened.
'Keep down, you fool!' Seymour shouted. Bullets were shrieking past,
chipping against the concrete every second, and Zorilla's infantry were
coming down the road and through the trees, in close order, sweeping
past the Casino towards the ford.
My aunt! how we shot! I'd never heard any noise like the noise of the
firing that went on then, and I wonder, now, how many of those rifles
were properly aimed.
The Casino seemed to be trembling and shaking, my little chaps began
scrambling in the bottom of their bags for cartridges, and I knew that
they were running short of ammunition, but then they began shrieking
with joy, because the infantry couldn't stand the fire from Gerald's
chaps along the stream, and we saw them dodging back again from tree to
tree, and clearing away from the road--a tall gaunt officer, on
horseback, trying to stem the retreat and turn them round again.
Even at that distance I recognised him. It was General Zorilla, but he
couldn't make them face the stream again, and they swept past him out of
sight.
'The cavalry are broken!' Seymour cried joyfully, and, turning my head,
I saw them coming back again, the pom-pom shells knocking up little
spurts of dust and smoke among them, and some of Gerald's people at the
side of the road firing point-blank at them. They were having an awful
time, horses and men coming down every second, and as a horse fell, it
brought down others behind it, in a heap of struggling bodies and legs,
the little white-shirted men darting out from the trees with their
_machetes_ to kill the wretched troopers before they could get to their
feet.
Those still on horseback came nearer and nearer, the leading ones were
almost up to the ford, and I could see them lying down on their horses'
necks, their arms raised in front of their heads, as Gerald's people
crowded to the side of the road to fire at them; they burst through the
stream and came flying past the front of the Casino, many horses
riderless, their flanks streaming with blood from sharp spurs, and their
blood-shot eyes almost sticking out of their heads. We could hear the
sobbing noise they made in their distress--poor brutes, they were
absolutely foundered.
[Illustration: PLAN OF OPERATIONS ROUND SAN FERNANDO.]
Those of my chaps, on the roof, who had any cartridges left let off
their rifles at them again, and at others who were lashing their poor
tired brutes through the sand, along the beach, at the back of the
house. I don't think that more than a couple of hundred got back beyond
that bend in safety. One, a powerful-looking native, half-nigger, was
the last to come struggling along the beach. Hundreds of bullets were
hitting the sand all round him and splashing in the water beyond, but he
seemed to bear a charmed life. He'd thrown away his rifle and his
lance, and as he came to that line of Gerald's people across the beach,
he put his hand in front of his face, bent low over his horse's neck,
and charged right through them. I felt jolly glad to see him safe and
coming towards us, but then one of my own little chaps ran out from the
Casino, down the beach, knelt down, raised his rifle, and waited for
him.
The trooper saw him, struck his poor beast with the flat of his sword,
and made one gallant effort to ride him down, but the horse was so
exhausted that he could hardly raise a trot in that loose sand. The
little kneeling man fired, and the horse plunged on to its head and
rolled over, the trooper slipping to his feet and jumping clear. With a
yell he grabbed his sword and rushed at the little man, and I thought my
chap was finished, but he had another cartridge in his rifle, fired
again, and the big trooper slithered forward, clawed at the sand, and
was dead. I felt jolly sorry, but the men on the roof, watching with
bloodthirsty eyes, jumped to their feet and yelled, and the little man,
bending over the body, pulled off the big trooper's boots, stuck them on
his own feet, and came awkwardly up to the Casino again, his face
beaming with pride.