The subaltern at the rear of one troop turned in his saddle and
said very softly: -

"Carter, what the blessed heavens are you doing at the rear? Bring
your men up, man."

There was no answer, till a trooper replied: -

"Carter Sahib is forward - not here. There is nothing behind us."

"There is," said the subaltern. "The squadron's walking on its own
tail."

Then the Major in command moved down to the rear, swearing softly
and asking for the blood of Lieutenant Halley - the subaltern who
had just spoken.

"Look after your rearguard," said the Major. "Some of your
infernal thieves have got lost. They're at the head of the
squadron, and you're a several kinds of idiot."

"Shall I tell off my men, sir?" said the subaltern sulkily, for he
was feeling wet and cold.

"Tell 'em off!" said the Major. "Whip 'em off, by Gad! You're
squandering them all over the place. There's a troop behind you
now!"

"So I was thinking," said the subaltern calmly. "I have all my men
here, sir. Better speak to Carter."