At full speed the troop dashed across the plain to
the village, whose gate they reached just as a large
body of the fugitives were arriving. These gave
a yell as this fresh body of horsemen fell upon them;
a few tried to enter the gates of the village, but
the main body scattered again in flight. The
cavalry dashed in through the gates, and sabered some
men who were trying to close them. A few shots
were fired inside, but resistance was soon over, and
the male inhabitants who remained dropped over the
wall and sought refuge in flight. A bugle call
now summoned the other troop from pursuit, and the
women and children being at once, without harm or
indignity, turned out of the village, the conquerors
took possession.
“This will be our headquarters for a day or
two,” the major said, as the troop gathered
round him; “there is an abundance of food for
horse and man, and we could stand a siege if necessary.”
Warrener’s Horse was the happiest of military
bodies. On duty the discipline was severe, and
obedience prompt and ready. Off duty, there was,
as among the members of a regimental mess, no longer
any marked distinction of rank; all were officers
and gentlemen, good fellows and good comrades.
The best house in the village was set aside for Major
Warrener, and the rest of the squadron dispersed in
the village, quartering themselves in parties of threes
and fours among the cleanest-looking of the huts.
Eight men were at once put on sentry on the walls,
two on each side. Their horses were first looked
to, fed and watered, and soon the village assumed
as quiet an aspect as if the sounds of war had never
been heard in the land. At dark all was life and
animation. A dozen great fires blazed in the
little square in the center of the village, and here
the men fried their chickens, or, scraping out a quantity
of red-hot embers, baked their chupatties, with much
laughter and noise.
Then there was comparative quiet, the sentries on
the walls were trebled, and outposts placed at a couple
of hundred yards beyond the gates. Men lighted
their pipes and chatted round the fires, while Major
Warrener and a dozen of the oldest and most experienced
of his comrades sat together and discussed the best
course to be pursued.
A DESPERATE DEFENSE.
“Well, major, what do you think of the situation?”
one of the senior captains asked, after the pipes
had begun to draw.
“It looks rather bad, Crawshay. There’s
no disguising the fact. We shall have the country
up in force; they will swarm out like wasps from every
village, and by to-morrow night we shall have, at the
very least, ten thousand of them round us. Against
a moderate force we could defend the village; but
it is a good-sized place, and we have only twenty-five
men for each wall, and a couple of hundred would be
none too little.”
“But surely, major, we might prevent their scaling
the walls. It is not likely that they would attack
on all sides at once, and without artillery they could
do little.”
