The crest was reached. Every eye sought the village below. Its pointed tipis could be described, as thick as young cedars, on both sides of the curving stream. The pony herd was restless, at the approach of day following the long, biting night.
Here upon the crest was swiftly formed the line of battle, for the charge. Right and left into line rode the troopers, for squadron front; the right held by Colonel West, the left by Captain Hamilton and the Cook sharpshooters who were to fight on foot.
“Officers and men will remove their overcoats and the men their haversacks, to be left here under guard of one man from each company,” directed the general, tersely. “We must be free in our actions. Not a shot is to be fired before the charge is sounded. Keep those dogs here, too.”
So overcoats and haversacks were dropped; and stripped to their blouses the column again waited, breathing hard.
“For—r’d—march!” The low command trickled adown the long line; and more by sight than by hearing the line obeyed. From the crest it began to descend; and if all was going well, from three other points three other lines were as cautiously closing in on the doomed village.
The general led, in the center, with Adjutant Moylan beside him, Ned behind. A few paces off to the rear of the general’s right was Colonel West, commanding the right squadron. Captain Hamilton was on the left.
“Now, men, keep cool, wait the command, fire low and not too rapidly,” Ned heard him caution, in clear, calm tone.
Sergeant-Major Kennedy of the non-commissioned staff was another man in front of the line. Ned glimpsed him on the right.
Just before the center of the line, in close formation rode the band—every man with his instrument poised, the chief musician’s cornet at his lips, prepared to burst into “Garryowen” at first signal for attack.
The foot of the hill was reached; the pony herd stared, and jostled uneasily, scenting and hearing and seeing. With crackle of snow they moved aside—and as the crackle by the cavalry mingled with the crackle by their ponies, the village slept on, suspecting naught.
Now the timber ahead was the goal; for in the timber was the main collection of the lodges. A few, above and below, had been pitched on this side of the stream; but the majority were across, where the bank was low and level.