First, to be surprised would be unpardonable.

Second, to fall back would be unpardonable.

* * * * *

It was four o'clock. The road was ankle-deep in dust; the sun burnt our
faces as we marched toward the west. Up hill and down hill, up hill and
down hill, we marched for an hour, west and southwest.

We halted; from each company men were detailed to fill canteens. The
city could no longer he seen.

Willis pointed to the north. Willis was a big, red-haired sergeant--a
favourite with the men.

I looked, and saw clouds of dust rising a mile or two away.

"Miles's division," says Willis.

"What is on our left?"

"Nothing," says Willis.

"How do you know?"

"We are the left," says Willis.

The sergeant had studied war a little; he had some infallible views.