It must not be imagined that every officer who rides at its head can train or lead a squadron. Those who can do both in perfection are few and far between. An apprenticeship of several years under various good leaders, added to natural ability, good horsemanship, an eye for country, a thorough sympathy with both his men and horses, are a few of the talents required to make a good squadron leader. But if a regiment is so fortunate as to possess even one good squadron leader, there will soon be found, especially among the junior officers, many to imitate him, and thus one good squadron leader makes many. “A,” the good squadron leader, is easily recognized in the field; he rides well away from his squadron, confident that they will obey his word or signal; his squadron know his ruses and plans, and move smoothly, ready to act at the indicated speed in any direction signalled by him. They are led covered from view,[87] duly avoiding or overcoming obstacles, quietly picking their way; the leader is now far to the front, with his eye on the enemy; his second in command passes any signals which are made. Suddenly pace is increased, and the squadron is galloping along under the crest of the hill, the cover which they know without an order he wishes them to utilize; then the troops wheel into line, “direction the enemy”; a defensive flank is dropped back, or an offensive flank pushed up; whilst the enemy’s leader, taken by surprise, is making up his mind, A’s squadron has drawn swords and is upon him with a mighty cheer. “B,” the indifferent squadron leader, nervously and fretfully jobbing his horse in the mouth, rides _near_ his squadron, at which he constantly looks back to see if the men have not already got out of dressing or committed some fault. Querulously addressing his second in command or sergeant major, he asks some foolish question; already he wants some one to lean on. His squadron moves round from behind some cover, where he has unwisely placed it, at an uneven pace, his ill-bitted horses tossing their heads in pain. Now he executes some movement; but before it is completed, he has given another order to “form squadron,” which formation he forthwith regards with disapprobation from a flank and at some 20 yards from his squadron. He has no eyes for the enemy; two patrols have been sent out who _ought_ to inform him. He gets the information right enough, but riding, as he is, near his squadron, which is walking now, he has barely time to give an order to increase the pace and then “left shoulder” towards the enemy, who are getting to one flank, before he notices his swords are not drawn. To get this done increases the confusion in his squadron.