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Page 77
But suddenly there rose a cry of "/Twala, y' Twala/," and out of the
press sprang forward none other than the gigantic one-eyed king
himself, also armed with battle-axe and shield, and clad in chain
armour.
"Where art thou, Incubu, thou white man, who slewest Scragga my son--
see if thou canst slay me!" he shouted, and at the same time hurled a
/tolla/ straight at Sir Henry, who fortunately saw it coming, and
caught it on his shield, which it transfixed, remaining wedged in the
iron plate behind the hide.
Then, with a cry, Twala sprang forward straight at him, and with his
battle-axe struck him such a blow upon the shield that the mere force
and shock of it brought Sir Henry, strong man as he is, down upon his
knees.
But at this time the matter went no further, for that instant there
rose from the regiments pressing round us something like a shout of
dismay, and on looking up I saw the cause.
To the right and to the left the plain was alive with the plumes of
charging warriors. The outflanking squadrons had come to our relief.
The time could not have been better chosen. All Twala's army, as
Ignosi predicted would be the case, had fixed their attention on the
bloody struggle which was raging round the remnant of the Greys and
that of the Buffaloes, who were now carrying on a battle of their own
at a little distance, which two regiments had formed the chest of our
army. It was not until our horns were about to close upon them that
they had dreamed of their approach, for they believed these forces to
be hidden in reserve upon the crest of the moon-shaped hill. And now,
before they could even assume a proper formation for defence, the
outflanking /Impis/ had leapt, like greyhounds, on their flanks.
In five minutes the fate of the battle was decided. Taken on both
flanks, and dismayed at the awful slaughter inflicted upon them by the
Greys and Buffaloes, Twala's regiments broke into flight, and soon the
whole plain between us and Loo was scattered with groups of running
soldiers making good their retreat. As for the hosts that had so
recently surrounded us and the Buffaloes, they melted away as though
by magic, and presently we were left standing there like a rock from
which the sea has retreated. But what a sight it was! Around us the
dead and dying lay in heaped-up masses, and of the gallant Greys there
remained but ninety-five men upon their feet. More than three thousand
four hundred had fallen in this one regiment, most of them never to
rise again.
"Men," said Infadoos calmly, as between the intervals of binding a
wound on his arm he surveyed what remained to him of his corps, "ye
have kept up the reputation of your regiment, and this day's fighting
will be well spoken of by your children's children." Then he turned
round and shook Sir Henry Curtis by the hand. "Thou art a great
captain, Incubu," he said simply; "I have lived a long life among
warriors, and have known many a brave one, yet have I never seen a man
like unto thee."
At this moment the Buffaloes began to march past our position on the
road to Loo, and as they went a message was brought to us from Ignosi
requesting Infadoos, Sir Henry, and myself to join them. Accordingly,
orders having been issued to the remaining ninety men of the Greys to
employ themselves in collecting the wounded, we joined Ignosi, who
informed us that he was pressing on to Loo to complete the victory by
capturing Twala, if that should be possible. Before we had gone far,
suddenly we discovered the figure of Good sitting on an ant-heap about
one hundred paces from us. Close beside him was the body of a Kukuana.
"He must be wounded," said Sir Henry anxiously. As he made the remark,
an untoward thing happened. The dead body of the Kukuana soldier, or
rather what had appeared to be his dead body, suddenly sprang up,
knocked Good head over heels off the ant-heap, and began to spear him.
We rushed forward in terror, and as we drew near we saw the brawny
warrior making dig after dig at the prostrate Good, who at each prod
jerked all his limbs into the air. Seeing us coming, the Kukuana gave
one final and most vicious dig, and with a shout of "Take that,
wizard!" bolted away. Good did not move, and we concluded that our
poor comrade was done for. Sadly we came towards him, and were
astonished to find him pale and faint indeed, but with a serene smile
upon his face, and his eyeglass still fixed in his eye.
"Capital armour this," he murmured, on catching sight of our faces
bending over him. "How sold that beggar must have been," and then he
fainted. On examination we discovered that he had been seriously
wounded in the leg by a /tolla/ in the course of the pursuit, but that
the chain armour had prevented his last assailant's spear from doing
anything more than bruise him badly. It was a merciful escape. As
nothing could be done for him at the moment, he was placed on one of
the wicker shields used for the wounded, and carried along with us.
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