Headlam's first thought was for cover. Out in the yard there was a big rain-tub. Calling the two French soldiers to help, they rolled it out longways on into the road, and one of them, with Headlam, got behind with their rifles. The moment the patrol appeared, Headlam gave the Uhlans an excellent example of rapid fire, and three saddles were empty before they realised where the attack came from. Then they charged. French and British, side by side, ground away with their rifles, and when the Uhlans reached the little fortress there were only three left out of the patrol of nine. The second Frenchman, by the side of the road, accounted for another, and, with three to two, the Uhlans surrendered. So our three musketeers found themselves with five excellent horses and a couple of prisoners; and I leave you to picture the triumphal procession which passed through the villages on the southward journey. The order of march was: Jacques and a led horse, Pierre and a led horse, two disconsolate Uhlans on foot (and hating it), and Headlam (with female escort), as G.O.C., bringing up the rear.... Keep moving! ... But oh, the inexpressible weariness of it! No torture is more refined than that of preventing a worn-out human being from sleeping; and here it was experienced to the full. The picture of the Force that night might well have created for Dante the vision of one more circle of Hell. Hunger was long since forgotten, but a red-hot thirst remained. One could appreciate as never before how Dives thirsted when he asked for Lazarus to touch his lips with a moistened finger. On, ever on, for hour after eternal hour, riding or trudging through the inky darkness, never a halt.... Keep moving! How the troops did it I cannot tell. It was not the triumph of will over the exhausted body, for the sense of volition had fled, and men were mere automata in their movements. The legs jerked forwards as those of a clockwork toy. Had the men halted they could never have got moving again; the clockwork would have run down. In the saddle it was little better. Every muscle of the body ached with an intolerable dull throbbing; a deadly coma crept through the brain and dragged at the eyelids. Nerveless fingers clutched at the pommel of the saddle, and were pulled away by the drag of the heavy arms. One knows how a single night of sleeplessness will tell its tale in the face of a man or woman. Here was the fourth night of ceaseless fighting and marching, with only an odd hour of rest now and again. All through the night and on into the daylight hours sounded the plod-plod of marching men, the grumble--creak--grumble of transport or guns. And in the far rear of the moving columns were more regiments lined out, showing a bold front to the still advancing enemy, ever guarding the backs of their comrades so far as was humanly possible.