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 it's heels labored the Drum-
Horse--the dead and buried Drum-Horse--with the jolting, clattering
skeleton. Hogan-Yale whispered softly to Martyn:--"No wire will
stand that treatment," and the Band, which had doubled like a hare,
came back again.
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