On the Cotton Plains. 77 



and face the world together. During the next few months 

 others in the same plight joined us ; thrust forth to seek 

 our fortunes, a fellow-feeling drew us together. 



In the course of our wanderings we had left the old 

 country far behind, and one day found ourselves approaching 

 a long line of trees that marked the straight undeviating 

 stretch of a trunk road. It was a glorious cold weather 

 morning. The air was cold and crisp. White rime lay on 

 the yet misty fields, and the road, with its shading line of 

 acacias, stretched away east to the dim grey horizon, where 

 the early beams of the sun shot up into the clear green sky 

 from behind a far cloud bank. 



As we moved about, nibbling a frond of fern-like gram 

 here and there, a distant rumbling arose, and a thin curtain 

 of dust among the trees ; then the cheerful jingling of chains 

 and harness, as a Battery of artillery came along at a smart 

 trot opposite us. In obedience to a long-drawn-out word 

 of command, they slowed to a walk and passed along the 

 smooth road, the early sun glancing from steel and chain. 

 Further on a short halt was made, and, seizing something 

 from a syce, a figure left the road and came towards us. As 

 we stared at the novel sight on the road, little puffs of 

 smoke arose among the men and a hum of voices. The 

 khaki-clad figure was getting near. I alone had heard of 

 the dreaded sahib, and was well into my stride before the 

 first bullet buzzed angrily over our heads off a stone. Then 

 there came a second, and behind me a dull " plop ;" and one 

 of our number pitched on his head and lay kicking feebly. 



None of us waited to see any more after that ! 



Nightfall found us again in the neighbourhood of the 

 road, which, like the villages of the plain, possesses a strong 

 attraction for us when night has cast her cold dark mantle 

 over the land. 



