m, the
stirring adventure lurking in every dip and donga of that wind-swept,
sun-dried, war-racked expanse of steppe, will live with us for ever.
Who can forget those autumn mornings, when the horse, influenced by
the same exhilaration as his rider, races across the spongy soil;
playfully shies at a half-hidden ant-heap; with cat-like agility
avoids the dangerous bear-earth; when all seems strong, and young, and
full of life; when war is forgotten, until the rocket-bird falls
slanting across your path, and its plaintive note calls back to your
memory the whine of the Mauser bullet! Yes, it is good to be a
soldier. The chances are heavy; but, all told, it is worth it.

"Where the devil are you galloping to? Don't you know that you
shouldn't approach mounted troops at that pace?"

You feel inclined to tell the cavalry colonel, fresh from the Curragh,
that we had left all that behind eighteen months ago. But discipline
rules experience, and automatically the respectful hand is up to the
helmet-peak.

"The general's compliments, sir. He wishes to send an officer on at
once with a message to Major Twine. Will you kindly detail one of
your officers. He is to come back with me to the general at once."

"Oh, you are from the general, are you? Here, Sturt," turning to his
adjutant, "send Mr Meadows back with this officer to the general. And
you, sir, don't you in future come galloping up like that into my
regiment."

"Very good, sir."

* * * * *

"Now, Mr Intelligence, I don't want you here any more. You have got to
find out something about this road. I shall expect you to know all
about those farms by this evening. So get along with your robbers. You
can call yourself an egg-and-milk patrol, if you like. I should like
some eggs for breakfast. Unless we strike Burghers, I halt at the
first convenient water after eleven--from eleven until two. Go and
find that water, and don't get shot."

Back again to the front. By throwing a circle the main body is
avoided, and ten minutes' canter brings you to the advance-guard. To
the brain of the advance-guard would have been perhaps a more truthful
statement, for the subaltern commanding the leading troop is riding
alone along the post-cart road. His men are but dots strung out on
either flank like buoys in the Hoogly. The subaltern himself is full
of importance, grievances, and map-study.

_Subaltern._ "Why haven't you given me a guide?"

_Intel