e
sepoys, and once, in answer as it seemed to a more than usually savage
chorus from the enemy--a chorus that was punctuated by a raging din of
intermittent rifle-fire--a ringing cheer.

"They must be in a tight hole!" muttered Bellairs. "Answer that, men!
All together, now! Let 'em know we're coming."

The men rose in their stirrups all together, and sent roaring through
the blackness the deep-throated "Hip-hip-hur-r-a-a-a-a-a!" that has
gladdened more than one beleaguered British force in the course of
history. It is quite different from the "Hur-o-a-o-a-u-r-rh" of a
forlorn hope, or the high-pitched note of pleasure that signals the end
of a review. It means "Hold on, till we get there, boys!" and it carries
its meaning, clear and crisp and unmistakable, in its note.

The two beleaguered companies heard it and answered promptly with
another cheer.

"By gad, they must be in a hole!" remarked Bellairs.

British soldiers do not cheer like that, all together, unless there is
very good reason to feel cheerless. They fight, each man according to
his temperament, swearing or laughing, sobbing or singing comic songs,
until the case looks grim. Then, though, the same thrill runs through
the whole of them, the same fire blazes in their eyes, and the last
ditch that they line has been known to be a grave for the enemy.

"Trumpeter! Sound close-order!"

The trumpet rang. The advance-guard drew rein for the section to catch
up. The guns drew abreast of one another and the mounted gunners formed
in a line, two deep, in front of them. The ammunition-wagon trailed like
a tail behind.

"That high ground over there, I think!" suggested O'Rourke.

"Thank you, sir. Section, right! Trot, march! Canter!"

Crash went the guns and the following wagon across the roadside ditch.
The tired horses came up to the collar as service-horses always will,
generous to the last ounce of strength they have in them.

"Gallop!"

The limbers bumped and jolted and the short-handled whips cracked like
the sound of pistol-practise. Blind, unreconnoitered, grim--like a black
thunderbolt loosed into the blackness--the two guns shot along a
hollow, thundered up a ridge and burst into the fire-light up above the
mutineers, in the last place where any one expected them. A howl came
from the road that they had left, a hundred sepoys had rushed down to
block their passage the moment that their cheer had rung above the noise
of battle.

"Action--fron