  We had to retreat, entirely by Zulus surrounded— We had to retreat, but we cut our way through as you know. Bold Beresford lingered, while loudly the bugle was sounded, And turned in his saddle to take a last look at the foe. A trooper’s horse dropped; its rider lay stunned for a minute— But quick as the lightning the storm-cloud in summer reveals, A voice cried, “Come, quick! see the stirrup—now set your foot in it— And jump up behind, for the devils are close to our heels.” “No, here I’ll remain. Go on, and don’t mind me, your honour, Ride on, save yourself, if I’m killed I shall never be missed.” But the mare had to carry that day double burden upon her— “Come up, or by heaven, I’ll give you the weight of my fist.” Then away went the mare, and many a yell from pursuer Rose high on the air while fast o’er the wild veld they fled, Than his whose strong arm snatched a comrade from realms of the dead. Ere sundown they rode into camp and quickly dismounted, And then they shook hands and parted, “To arms!” was the call. Of all the good deeds that were done, oh! shall not be counted Bold Beresford’s ride with the Sergeant the bravest of all? A. Brodrick. Pretoria, 1882. [Image of decorative bar not available.] |
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