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"On the Firing Line"

As a matter of course, Weldon had asked that the score
might include Paddy and Carew; and now, with them at his side, he
was at the head of the column which trailed away far towards the
southward, twelve hundred poorly mounted men riding in leisurely
fashion towards Harrismith and the chance of rounding up an
occasional Boer.
Dusk of the second day had brought the hills on the sky-line close
to their eyes, and had sharpened the ragged peaks into threatening
crests of bare, black rock. Already the hills were but three miles
distant, and the hour for halt almost at hand, when scouts came
flying back to the column, breathless with haste and with the
consciousness of tidings to impart. The colonel received the tidings
with outward calm.
"A laager of fifteen hundred Boers? And a mile and a half to the
south of us? We must attack." His eyes swept the faces of his men.
"Trooper Weldon?"
At the word, Weldon rode forward and saluted.
"That highest hill is the key to the position. It is the one we must
hold. Can you and your men ride around to the west of the laager,
get that hill and hold it at all costs until I can send
reinforcements to you? The reinforcements will start as soon as you
reach the top of the hill.


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