I saw the ’Gnome’ dashing from room to room, placing his men at the windows, and I rushed up to the roof, pushing all the chaps in front of me, and made them lie down along the four edges, shoulder to shoulder with their rifles pointing over the concrete ledge—across the beach at the rear of the house, back towards the stream where Seymour’s dead horse was lying, across the road in front of the Casino, and, on the fourth side, right along the road and round that bend in it. The cavalry men were still clustered there, and they were so numerous that I couldn’t see the end of them among the trees; some were dismounted, so that Zorilla evidently was not ready yet. ’Fire! Fire!’ I yelled, pointing towards them, but the little chaps seemed numbed and frightened at the sight of them and wouldn’t fire. I suppose they were overawed by the sight of the cavalry, or perhaps they knew there would be no escape from that house if Zorilla’s people won, and feared to anger them. Perhaps, too, as no bullets were coming at them they didn’t want to draw their fire. Whatever it was I couldn’t get them to shoot, so I seized a man’s rifle, kicked him out of the way—pulled back the bolt to see if it was loaded—leant it against the edge, aimed right in among the cavalry, and fired. I saw a horse fall down in a heap, and his rider extricate himself, looking this way and that to see where the bullet had come from. I fired again and again—there was a stir among them—the little chaps on either side of me bucked up and began to let off their rifles—the cavalry began fidgeting, crowding and jostling together—more horses fell—there was a sudden turning of the horses’ heads, and they all began to retire. My little chaps squealed with delight, the little fellow whose rifle I’d bagged, seized it, imploring me with his black eyes to let him have a turn, and I crawled away, breathing freely again, for the cavalry had all retired behind the next bend in the road, and I knew that they were not yet ready to charge. But we had drawn a tremendous fire from the infantry in the woods, and we could not see any one to aim at. Then I thought of Seymour, and jumped down the stairs to see what I could do for him. He was still leaning on the banisters—deadly pale. ’The cavalry have retired. We’ve time for a breather. Show me where you are hit.’ He pointed just below the middle of his stomach, and I knew what was the only thing I could do, for Dr. Clegg had been teaching us ’first aid’ ever since we left Gibraltar. I tore a sheet off a bed, tore it in strips, and wound them round his stomach as tightly as I could. ’For God’s sake, fetch me a drink,’ he gasped, but Dr. Clegg had said: ’If any of you get shot through the stomach, throw your water-bottle and biscuits away and lie down. It’s your only chance.’ ’No, not a drop!’ I said, and wanted him to lie down—he wouldn’t. ’I’ll go on the roof. I can help there.’