"Very good, sir," replied the non-com., boldly stepping towards the door. The officer then crept away with the remaining scouts. In twenty minutes he located Colonel Corkleg’s Corps in quarter column behind a hill, with only half a company thrown out as an observation post. The colonel was waiting for his scouts before he set out to annihilate "those bally amateurs," as he termed the Territorials. While he was fretting, fuming, and cursing the overdue scouts, the gallant subaltern was busily pedalling back on a borrowed bicycle with his report. "Well," said the Territorial colonel, as his chief scout arrived. "I’ve bagged all their scouts, sir, and we can decimate the whole regiment." "Good," said the C.O., avoiding unnecessary inquiries in anticipation of future trouble with headquarters. "You can double the regiment, sir, to within five hundred yards of the enemy. One company might engage their observation post; the remainder might make a detour with our Maxim guns and annihilate the regiment." "Right—lead the way," ordered the colonel, signalling the advance. Quickly they covered the ground. In half an hour they arrived at the point to deploy. Leaving a company to engage the enemy in front, the others circled round, then moved into long skirmishing lines. Down on their knees they went, and up the hill all quietly crawled to bag the Glesca Mileeshy. "Where _are_ those scouts?" said Colonel Corkleg in a furious manner. "_Can’t_ understand, sir—most annoying," replied the adjutant. "It’s worse—it’s _damned_ annoying," raved the colonel, looking at his watch. "But we can’t wait. We had better move out to——" "Bang!" interjected a shot in his rear. Next there was a fierce volley of blank on three sides of his position, while away to the front he heard the volleys of his defending outposts. The startling onslaught frightened his charger, which reared and flung him to mother earth. The crack of the enemy’s Maxims and the terrible crash of their musketry threw the regiment, for the moment, into a state of panic and alarm. "Good Lord!—they’ve trapped us," roared the angry colonel, as he was helped to his feet. "Yes, sir," replied the adjutant. "Extend—extend," ordered the now alert veteran, in an endeavour to save his regiment. Alas! he was too late. Like one man the whole seven companies of Territorials fixed their bayonets and charged down on to the surprised Militiamen. It was, indeed, a glorious victory—one which startled the Brigadier, who happened to ride on to the scene. "You’ve been scuppered, Corkleg," said the general, with a dry grin. "Yes, sir," was the tart reply of the disconsolate C.O. "Well—you’re out of action. But why were you caught napping?" "Waiting for my scouts, sir."