The result was that we came upon the struggling rear of the enemy's right wing, scattering and riding over them; and had the country beyond been clear, we could have made our escape.
Unluckily it was the fortune, of war that, just as we had cleared the scattering mob, with every man riding for his life, there appeared in front another and stronger line, with bodies of the enemy coming in from right and left.
Our chief turned in his saddle to glance backward; but it was only to see the two bodies we had passed struggling to got into something like order, so as to pursue us.

For another minute no alteration was made in our course; but the attempt was hopeless, for we should have been outnumbered twenty times over, while the enemy in front now opened fire, their bullets whizzing overhead.
The trumpet rang out, and we wheeled round as upon a pivot, our well-drilled horses never losing their formation; and away we went as soon as we were facing our loosely-formed, mob-like pursuers, straight for their centre.
The trumpet again rang out; and, sword in hand, every man sat well down in his saddle, prepared for the shock of the encounter which in another minute would have taken place.
This, however, was not the style of fighting the Boers liked; and, already upset by the collision of the two bodies resulting in a confused mob, they declined our challenge, and pulled up, tried to ride off to right and left, and again got themselves into a disorderly crowd; but as they opened out we dashed through them, tumbling over men and horses, and with, a cheer galloped to reach an open part of the plain.
It was a wild and exciting rush before we got through; and I have but little recollection of what took place beyond the fact that I struck out right and left in melee after melee, wherein blows were aimed at us with the butts and barrels of rifles, and shots fired at close quarters, but in almost every case I believe without effect.

Then the call rang out, "Halt!" and, with our enemies at a distance, we formed up again, to give our panting horses breathing-time.
It was then, I remember, that Denham--who had not been missed--almost breathless, and with uncovered head, edged in to my side, and as soon as he was able to speak panted out: "Glorious, Val! Glorious! Oh! we did let them have it; but there's nothing for it except to die game or surrender, and I'll be hanged if I'll do either, and so I tell them." "Which way are we going now ?" I said, taking off my soft hat and offering it to him, as I wiped the perspiration from my face with my hand.
"Do you want to insult a fellow ?" he cried, laughing.

"Who's going to wear your old hats ?" Then, seriously: "No, no; keep it, old chap.
Which way next?
Who knows?
I'm sure the Colonel doesn't.

It's all chance.