But, though the guns were ahead of every one, they had to suit their
pace to that of the men who marched. For one thing, there might be
an attack at any minute, and guns that are caught at close quarters
at a distance from their escort are apt to be astonishingly helpless.
They can act in unison with infantry; but alone, on bad ground, in
the darkness, and with their horses nearly too tired to drag them,
a leash of ten puppies in a crowd would be an easier thing to hurry with.
Young Bellairs had his men dismounted and walking by their mounts.
Even the drivers led their horses, for two had been taken from each
gun to drag the wounded, and the guns are calculated as a load for
six, not four.
As he trudged through the blood-hot dust in clumsy riding-boots and
led his charger on the left flank of the guns, Harry Bellairs fumed
and fretted in a way to make no man envy him. The gloomy, ghost-like
trees, that had flitted past him on the road to Doonha, crawled past
him now--slowly and more slowly as his tired feet blistered in his boots.
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