There was no time to think of danger--of shots from the enemy, or being crushed down by the hoofs of the troopers tearing after us; all was one wild state of fierce excitement, which made me feel as if I must shout in triumph at the result of our successful charge.
Contrary to expectation, there was now a new sound--the buzzing hiss of bullets overhead.

Then, away to my left, yet another peculiar announcement of what might happen; for, clearly above the heavy thud of horses' hoofs and the loud jingle of bits and chains, I could hear a curious _zip, zip, zip, zip_--a sound I had learned to know perfectly well: it was the striking of the Boers' bullets upon inequalities of the ground, and their ricochetting to hit again and again, as though a demoniacal game of "Dick, duck, and drake" were being played upon the surface of the ground instead of upon the water from off the shore.
Suddenly some one tore along to the side of our column, and a voice shouted, followed by the clear notes of a trumpet.
The horses wanted no touch from rein or spur.

Those right and left of me bore round, and naturally mine went with them.

Left incline, and we tore on still in as wild and reckless a race through the darkness as was ever ridden by a body of men.
The bullets overhead buzzed, and the ricochets sounded _zip, zip_; but, as far as we could tell, no one was hit, nor had a man gone down from the false stop of a horse.
Unexpectedly, though, I heard a cry from somewhere behind, then a heavy fall, and another, as a couple of horses went down, and caused some confusion; but to stop to help the unfortunates was impossible at such a time.

It was the fortune of war, as we all knew; and we tore on, till a note from the trumpet rose from our left; then another, and the fierce gallop was changed to a trot, and evolution after evolution was executed to bring the retiring regiment into formation of troops.