again passed, this time at the trot, while the Infantry completed its
circular march to its original position.

Finally the Cavalry passed for the third time, and now at the gallop,
an orderly whirlwind, a controlled avalanche of men and horses, with
levelled lances, and the hearts of all men were stirred at one of the
most stirring sights and sounds in the world--a cavalry charge.

At the head of the leading squadron galloped Colonel de Warrenne,
cool, methodical, keeping a distant flag-staff in line with a still
more distant church spire, that he might lead the regiment in a
perfectly straight line. (Few who have not tried it realize the
difficulty of leading a galloping line of men absolutely straight and
at true right-angles to the line of their ranks.)

On thundered the squadrons unbending of rank, uncrowded, unopened,
squadron-leaders maintaining distance, the whole mass as ordered,
shapely, and precisely correct as when at the walk.

Past the saluting-base thundered the squadrons and in full career
Colonel de Warrenne's charger put his near fore into ground
honey-combed by insect, reptile, or burrowing beast, crashed on its
head, rolled like a shot rabbit, and Colonel Matthew Devon de Warrenne
lay dead--killed by his own sword.

Like his ancestors of that fated family, he had died by the sword, but
unlike them, he had died by the _hilt_ of it.

Major John Decies, I.M.S., Civil Surgeon of Bimariabad, executor of
the will of the late Colonel de Warrenne and guardian of his son,