that
the coffee was just ready when--the men moved off, their Band leading.
Even then there had been a mistake in time, and the Fore and Aft came
out into the valley ten minutes before the proper hour. Their Band
wheeled to the right after reaching the open, and retired behind a
little rocky knoll, still playing while the regiment went past.

It was not a pleasant sight that opened on the uninstructed view, for
the lower end of the valley appeared to be filled by an army in
position--real and actual regiments attired in red coats, and--of this
there was no doubt--firing Martini-Henry bullets which cut up the
ground a hundred yards in front of the leading company. Over that
pock-marked ground the regiment had to pass, and it opened the ball
with a general and profound courtesy to the piping pickets; ducking in
perfect time, as though it had been brazed on a rod. Being
half-capable of thinking for itself, it fired a volley by the simple
process of pitching its rifle into its shoulder and pulling the
trigger. The bullets may have accounted for some of the watchers on
the hillside, but they certainly did not affect the mass of enemy in
front, while the noise of the rifles drowned any orders that might
have been given.

'Good God!' said the Brigadier, sitting on the rock high above all.
'That regiment has spoilt the whole show. Hurry up the others, and let
the screw-guns get off.'

But the screw-guns, in working round the heights, had stumbled upon a
wasp's nest of a small mud fort which they incontinently shelled at
eight hundred yards, to the huge discomfort of the occupants, who were
unaccustomed to weapons of such devilish precision.

The Fore and Aft continued to go forward, but with shortened stride.
Where were the other regiments, and why did these niggers use
Martinis? They took open order instinctively, lying down and firing at
random, rushing a few paces forward and lying down again, according to
the regulations. Once in this formation, each man felt himself
desperately alone, and edged in towards his fellow for comfort's sake.

Then the crack of his neighbour's rifle at his ear led him to fire as
rapidly as he could--again for the sake of the comfort of the noise.
The reward was not long delayed. Five volleys plunged the files in
banked smoke impenetrable to the eye, and the bullets began to take
ground twenty or thirty yards in front of the firers, as the weight of
the bayonet dragged down and to the right