“That, gentlemen and men of Alston’s Horse, is the bond which unites us together; it is the sense of a common duty to perform, of a common danger to combat, of a common patriotism to vindicate. And for that reason, because of the patriotism and the duty, I feel sure that when the end of this campaign comes, whatever that end may be, no one, be he imperial officer, or newspaper correspondent, or Zulu foe, will be able to say that Alston’s Horse shirked its work, or was mutinous, or proved a broken reed, piercing the side of those who leaned on it.” (Cheers.) “I feel sure, too, that, though there may be a record of brave deeds such as become brave men, there will be none of a comrade deserted in the time of need, or of a failure in the moment of emergency, however terrible that emergency may be.” (Cheers.) “Ay, my brethren in arms,” and here Ernest’s eyes flashed and his strong clear voice went ringing down the great hall, “whom England has called, and who have not failed to answer to the call, I repeat, however terrible may be that emergency, even if it should involve the certainty of death—I speak thus because I feel I am addressing brave men, who do not fear to die, when death means duty, and life means dishonour—I know well that you will rise to it, and, falling shoulder to shoulder, will pass as heroes should on to the land of shades—on to that Valhalla of which no true heart should fear to set foot upon the threshold.” Ernest sat down amid ringing cheers. Nor did these noble words, coming as they did straight from the loyal heart of an English gentleman, fail of their effect. On the contrary, when, a fortnight later, Alston’s Horse formed that fatal ring on Isandhlwana’s bloody field, they flashed through the brain of more than one despairing man, so that he set his teeth and died the harder for them. “Bravo, my young Viking!” said Mr. Alston to Ernest, while the roof was still echoing to the cheers evoked by his speech, “the old Bersekir spirit is cropping up, eh?” He knew that Ernest’s mother’s family, like so many of the old Eastern County stocks, were of Danish extraction. It was a great night for Ernest. Two days later Alston’s Horse, sixty-four strong, marched out of Pretoria with a military band playing before. Alas! they never marched back again. At the neck of the poort or pass the band and the crowd of ladies and gentlemen who had accompanied them halted, and, having given them three cheers, turned and left them. Ernest, too, turned and gazed at the pretty town, with its white houses and rose-hedges red with bloom, nestling on the plain beneath, and wondered if he would ever see it again. He never did.