They felt that
the men on their backs were afraid of something. When horses once know THAT,
all is over except the butchery.
Troop after troop turned from the troughs and ran--anywhere, and everywhere--
like spilt quicksilver. It was a most extraordinary spectacle, for men and
horses were in all stages of easiness, and the carbine-buckets flopping against
their sides urged the horses on. Men were shouting and cursing, and trying to
pull clear of the Band which was being chased by the Drum-Horse whose rider had
fallen forward and seemed to be spurring for a wager.
The Colonel had gone over to the Mess for a drink. Most of the officers were
with him, and the Subaltern of the Day was preparing to go down to the lines,
and receive the watering reports from the Troop-Sergeant Majors. When "Take me
to London again" stopped, after twenty bars, every one in the Mess said:--"What
on earth has happened?" A minute later, they heard unmilitary noises, and saw,
far across the plain, the White Hussars scattered, and broken, and flying.
The Colonel was speechless with rage, for he thought that the Regiment had
risen against him or was unanimously drunk. The Band, a disorganized mob, tore
past, and at its heels labored the Drum-Horse--the dead and buried Drum-Horse--
with the jolting, clattering skeleton.
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