The firing was so rapid that it sounded almost like machine-gun practice.

A hairy arm reached out and pushed my head back, and after that, whenever I made the least movement, a man who was sniping from behind the sheltering rock swore furiously, and threatened to brain me with his butt-end.
Beyond all doubt they regarded me as perishable freight; so I hardly saw any of the fighting.
Judging by the sound, I should say they fought their way up-hill in skirmish order, and when they got to the top the enemy-- whoever they were--took to flight.

But that is guesswork.

There were two casualties on our side.

One man shot through the arm, which did not matter much; he was well able to lie about what had happened and to boast of how many men he had slain before the bullet hit him.