The sorrel got uneasy but gave me no real trouble. Sultan
took not the slightest notice of the din behind him, and leisurely cropped
the tough bussocks of grass at his feet.
I looked to the road again. The southern body was small, not more than a
score, compact, riding smartly but with military order and precision. The
man at their head, the officer in command, no doubt, spurred on and began
to shout at the oncoming northerners. He might as well have spoken fair
words to an avalanche, and the men behind him began to waver and most of
them pulled up. It was useless. The torrent swept into them and bore them
backward, tumbling some of them over, men and horses together, but
incorporating most of them in its own madness. In less than five minutes
the last batch of dragooners had cursed and spurred themselves out of
sight, and the bright moon shone down on a road once more bare and white
save for a few scattered patches of black.
The Colonel uncovered the mare's head and nuzzled her. All he said was,
but that very gleefully, "Geordie, my boy, I'll be routing you out of St.
James's within the fortnight.
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