"They've no horses here. Besides they'd have fired before this," said the Major. "It's—it's villagers' ponies."
"Then our horses would have neighed and spoilt the attack long ago. They must have been near us for half an hour," said the subaltern.
"Queer that we can’t smell the horses," said the Major, damping his finger and rubbing it on his nose as he sniffed up-wind.
"Well, it’s a bad start,” said the subaltern, shaking the wet from his overcoat. "What shall we do, sir?"
"Get on," said the Major; "we shall catch it to-night."
The column moved forward very gingerly for a few paces. Then there was an oath, a shower of blue sparks as shod hoofs crashed on small stones, and a man rolled over with a jangle of accoutrements that would have waked the dead.
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"Now we've gone and done it," said Lieutenant Halley. "All the hillside awake, and all the hillside to climb in the face of musketry fire. This comes of trying to do night-hawk work."
The trembling trooper picked himself up and tried to explain that his horse had fallen over one of the little cairns that are built of loose stones on the spot where a man has been murdered. There was no need to go on. The Major's big Australian charger blundered next, and the men came to a halt in what seemed to be a very graveyard of little cairns all about two feet high. The manœuvres of the squadron are not reported. Men said that it felt like mounted quadrilles without the training and without the music; but at last the horses, breaking rank and choosing their own way, walked clear of the cairns, till every man of the squadron re-formed and drew rein a few yards up the slope of the hill. Then, according to Lieutenant Halley, there began another scene very like the one which has been described. The Major and Carter insisted that all the men had not joined ranks, and that there were more of them in the rear clicking and blundering among the dead men’s cairns. Lieutenant Halley told off his own troopers for the second or third time, and resigned himself to wait. Later on he said to me:—
"I didn’t much know, and I didn’t much care, what was going on. The row of that trooper falling ought to have scared half the country, and I would take my oath that we were being stalked by a full regiment in the rear, and they were making row enough to rouse all Afghanistan. I sat tight, but nothing happened."
The mysterious part of the night's work was the silence on the hillside. Everybody knew that the Gulla Kutta Mullah had his outpost huts on the reverse side of the hill, and everybody expected, by the time that the Major had sworn himself into a state of quiet, that the watchmen there would open fire. When nothing occurred, they thought that the gusts of the rain had deadened the sound of the horses, and thanked
