ight be cut off from his own men; if, on
the other hand, he made a dash and rode them down before they could get
clear, he might cut them off from their main body, and so clip the
enemy's wings.

The enemy settled the question for him. Just as he was looking round
for the first sign of Forrester and the guns in the pass, the plain
suddenly swarmed with Afghans. From every quarter they bore down on
him, horse and foot, and even guns, seeming almost to spring, like the
teeth of Cadmus, from the earth.

It was no time for hesitation or doubt. Retreat was out of the
question. Equally hopeless was it to warn the troops who were coming
up. There was nothing for it but to stand at bay till the main body
came up, and then, if they were left to do it, fight their way out and
join forces.

The major therefore brought his men to a corner of the rocks, where on
two sides, at any rate, attack would be difficult; and there, ordering
them to dismount and form square, stood grimly.

A cruel half-hour followed. Man after man of that little band went down
before the dropping fire of the enemy. Had the guns been able to
command the position, they would have fallen by tens and scores. Major
Atherton, in the middle of the square, had his horse shot under him
before five minutes were past. Alas! there was no lack of empty saddles
to supply the loss, for before a quarter of an hour had gone by, out of
a dozen officers scarcely half remained.

Still they stood, waiting for the first boom of the guns at the head of
the pass, and often tempted to break away from their posts and die
fighting. For of all a soldier's duties, that of standing still under
fire is the hardest.

Captain Forrester, dashing up the defile at the head of the artillery,
had been prepared to find a lively skirmish in progress between his own
comrades and the handful of Afghans who were luring them on. But when,
on emerging on to the plain, he found himself and the guns more than
half surrounded by the enemy, and no sign anywhere of Atherton, he felt
that the "brush" was likely to be a very stiff one.

The Afghans had set their hearts on those guns; that was evident by the
wild triumphant yell with which they charged down on them. Forrester
had barely time to order a halt and swing the foremost gun into action
when a pell-mell scrimmage was going on in the very midst of the
gunners. The first shot fired wildly did little or no execution, but it
warned At