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Allen, Grant, 1848-1899

"Hilda Wade, a Woman with Tenacity of Purpose"

Very tough 'uns to fight. If they once break
laager."
"Then you should never let them get to close quarters," I suggested,
catching the general drift of his inarticulate swift pictures.
"You're a square man, you are, Doctor! There you touch the spot.
Never let 'em get at close quarters. Sentries?--creep past 'em.
Outposts?--crawl between. Had Forbes and Wilson like that. Cut 'em off.
Perdition!... But Maxims will do it! Maxims! Never let em get near.
Sweep the ground all round. Durned hard, though, to know just WHEN
they're coming. A night; two nights; all clear; only waste ammunition.
Third, they swarm like bees; break laager; all over!"
This was not exactly an agreeable picture of what we had to expect--the
more so as our particular laager happened to have no Maxims. However, we
kept a sharp lookout for those gleaming eyes in the long grass of which
Colebrook warned us; their flashing light was the one thing to be
seen, at night above all, when the black bodies could crawl unperceived
through the tall dry herbage. On our first night out we had no
adventures. We watched by turns outside, relieving sentry from time to
time, while those of us who slept within the laager slept on the bare
ground with our arms beside us.


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