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the intervals of the crashing volleys. “Well done, Captain Pope’s company!… Good shooting, the 24th!”
    The hunter dismounted behind the rocks on the lower slope of the col. He saw that the first ranks of the attacking tribesmen were closer to the camp perimeter now, though at a range of well over two hundred yards. A few of the veteran warriors set an example to the youths by dashing forward and launching their six-foot assegais, light spears that flew with a faint whoop! through the air. The steel points bedded deep in the earth, but no more than half the distance from the British perimeter.
    Presently, the attacking line surged forward again with a rising murmur of voices, lapping the entire length of the defence. Again it drew back before the volley-fire of the imperial regiments, the battle hymn falling to a low howl. To the north, however, one horn of the impi was trying to encircle the flank of the 24th Foot, while case-shot from the seven-pounder guns of the Royal Artillery defending that sector filled the air with a hail of metal.
    In the wagon-park, to the rear of Pulleine’s position, the cooks and quartermasters had come out, as if to watch a football game. The regimental band was formed up in the safety of this garrison ground. In battle, these musicians would serve as ammunition-bearers. The observer on the col turned his glasses upon this enclosure. That was where the engagement would be lost or won, but not yet.
    Strickland and his Volunteers had fallen back to hold a line on the left. These were the sharp-shooters and harriers of the veldt. Recovered from their fright on the plateau, their steady carefully aimed fire brought down rank after rank of attackers. The great tribal phalanx wavered and, for a moment, the advance seemed to fall away again. But the experienced warriors had taught the new recruits well. The survivors of the Uve and Uncijo battalions had learnt to drop to their knees as the volleys were fired, but then rose again to launch their spears.
    Even so, the Uvi battalion came to a halt, kept down by shots that sang and whipped overhead. Promised that the enemy’s bullets would slide off their skins without harming them, the young warriors were losing heart. Tales of white birds that flew above and dropped fire from the sky were proving true. Soon there might follow attacks by dogs and apes, clothed and carrying firearms on their shoulders, of which their elders spoke.
    Then, as quickly as it had begun, the lull ended and the attack was resumed. Stung by its losses, the Uvi rose from the grass and flung its ranks upon the riflemen. The most powerful warriors were now in range with their assegais. Like a shaft from the sun, a six-foot spear flew with the speed of a hawk and sank into Strickland’s back as he turned to reload his rifle. His men would hear a sharp crack as the tip fractured his rib-cage. Pinned through the body, his face pressed to the earth, the gang-master of the markets and the mines was dead at once.
    Here and there, the disciplined fire of Pulleine’s Lambs faltered as the spears flew among them. Two mercenaries were carrying Strickland’s body back to the regimental lines. The patient observer on the col heard the rifle fire on the northern perimeter die away. From time to time, red-coated infantry had grounded their weapons and were glancing round behind them. Presently the crackle of shots broke out again but now it was uneven and the delay had been costly. In the scrimmage, the attacking force had become so dense that it sometimes eclipsed the view of the action. To the south of the line, the tribesmen were still running forward at a steady trot, only to fall under the swarm of bullets. But to the north, more of them were pressing against the front line of the regiments.
    Pulleine had been given his command of the 24th Foot because he was one of few experienced in such warfare. Had the hunter been in his position, he too would believe