Then the
horses got into their stride again, the pace increased, and the Lancers
drew out from among their antagonists. Within two minutes of the collision
every living man was clear of the Dervish mass. All who had fallen were
cut at with swords till they stopped quivering, but no artistic mutilations
were attempted.
Two hundred yards away the regiment halted, rallied, faced about,
and in less than five minutes were re-formed and ready for a second charge.
The men were anxious to cut their way back through their enemies. We were
alone together--the cavalry regiment and the Dervish brigade. The ridge
hung like a curtain between us and the army. The general battle was
forgotten, as it was unseen. This was a private quarrel. The other might
have been a massacre; but here the fight was fair, for we too fought with
sword and spear. Indeed the advantage of ground and numbers lay with them.
All prepared to settle the debate at once and for ever. But some
realisation of the cost of our wild ride began to come to those who were
responsible. Riderless horses galloped across the plain. Men, clinging to
their saddles, lurched helplessly about, covered with blood from perhaps
a dozen wounds. Horses, streaming from tremendous gashes, limped and
staggered with their riders. In 120 seconds five officers, 65 men, and 119
horses out of fewer than 400 had been killed or wounded.
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