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"On the Firing Line"

Keep out of sight, while you can. Then
rush it. You understand?"
Weldon nodded; then, his head erect, his eyes flashing, he saluted
for a second time and, with his men at his heels, dashed off into
the thickening dusk.
Like foothills beside a mountain range, so the veldt before him was
already broken and crumpled into a series of irregular ridges,
opening in their midst to form a tiny plain where the Boer laager
lay spread out before them. The dusk of the plain was dotted with
scattered camp fires; but, beyond the ridges, it lay heavy, and in
that heaviness Weldon placed his trust. For two thirds of his whole
distance, he could keep below a ridge to the westward of the laager.
The final third lay full in view of the enemy, full up the
increasing steepness of the mountain side, where, horses failing, it
would be necessary to creep by stealth and upon the hands and knees.
And, where the shelter ended, there lay before them a short defile
between walls of naked rock, and the defile was narrow.
Half the way to the defile was already accomplished when Weldon
heard, from the crest of the ridge above him, the double crack of a
Mauser rifle, and then the sound of scurrying, unshod feet.


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