They had proceeded for about an hour or more when at last the cavalry-scouts bringing further orders were seen returning; coming not from in front but from the left, down a hill covered with undergrowth. They seemed in a great hurry, and their horses were covered with foam. The fore-most portion of the advance-guard at once, therefore, wheeled round, and leaving the road took the nearest way up the hill: a steep zig-zag, and a stiff piece of work. The gun-teams strained every muscle and took short, quick steps, trying to overcome the weight of the guns. Sergeant-major Heppner, who was riding behind the last gun, growled out: "I tell you, it's downright mountain artillery, this!" and he trotted a few steps on in front to find out how the Turk was getting on. The light bay was panting with exhaustion and dripping with sweat. Heppner scratched his head: little more could be expected of the poor beast that day. But worse was to come. The battery had scarcely accomplished the climb up the hill when the order came to form line. A gentle slope of even ground had still to be covered, and the battery was to get into position as quickly as possible behind the crest of the hill. The words of command rang out in quick succession: "Trot!" and "Gallop!" The ensign wheeled his column much too far to the right, just where the lie of the land was steepest; and Corporal Vertler, the leader of gun six, thinking it too near, took a circuit twice as great as was necessary. To get to the crest of the hill in this way was utterly impossible. Heppner looked anxiously across. With swift determination he gave over his duties as sergeant-major to Sergeant Wiegandt, then galloped to the right flank to try and mend matters somehow if possible. But the disaster had already begun. Gun six had from a gallop dropped into a trot, and from a trot into a walk. At last the six horses could not drag the gun one inch further. The ground was covered with smooth coarse grass that gave the horses very little foothold. Trembling and snorting, the animals just managed to support the weight of the gun, while, straining forwards and pawing the ground, they tried to get a firmer footing. The gunners had got down, and grasping the spokes of the wheels did what they could to assist. The sergeant-major kept close by and tried especially to egg on the wheel-driver. "Buck up, Sickel!" he cried. "Show us what you can make of this! You want to be thought our best driver, and you can't get up a little hill like this! Get on! Put your back into it!" The bombardier almost hung on the Turk's neck so as to release the weight on his haunches, while the gun actually moved forward two or three fractions of an inch. But suddenly Turk's hind legs gave way under him, the animal collapsed and slid down upon the slippery ground. The jerk caused by the fall made the other five horses also lose their hold. They began to tread backwards. "Put on the dag-chain!" roared Heppner.