It was not, strictly speaking, a riding car.

It was a straight-up-and-down basket of tough, light wicker, no larger and very little deeper than an ordinarily fair- sized hamper for soiled linen.

Indeed, that was what it reminded one of--a clothesbasket.
Grouped about the team and the wagon were soldiers to the number of perhaps a third of a company.

Half a dozen of them stood about the basket holding it steady--or trying to.

Heavy sandbags hung pendent- wise about the upper rim of the basket, looking very much like so many canvased hams; but, even with these drags on it and in spite of the grips of the men on the guy ropes of its rigging, it bumped and bounded uneasily to the continual rocking of the gas bag above it.