Then another signal--this time from their young commander, who had come running down afoot, leaving "Badger" at the crest. In the eagerness of the forward rush the riders were opening out, coming right and left front into line, as the soldiers say, and Graham's gauntleted hands--the same gauntlets Big Ben had coveted three months earlier--were extended full to right and left, the length of each arm, and then brought "palms together" in front. "Close in," it said, as plain as day, and almost instantly Drum's gruff voice could be heard in rebuke; almost as quickly the practised riders could be seen closing the outer leg and rein. Another moment and the little line was trotting almost boot to boot. Then as they neared the point where the slope became abrupt, Graham's right hand, palm forward, went straight aloft, a gesture instantly repeated by the sergeant, and in two seconds more the horses, panting a little with excitement, were pawing the turf, and Drum's voice, low and compelling, ordered, "Count fours!" The next moment the odd numbers darted forward four yards, and halted. The next, with carbines swung over their shoulders, numbers one, two, and three were swinging from saddle, the next all horses were again in one line, with every fourth trooper still seated in saddle; and the dismounted men deftly lashing their reins to the headstalls of numbers two and three, while three himself passed his reins up to number four. Then, nimbly, with carbines at trail, up came a dozen wiry young fellows in dusty campaign rig, running swiftly up the slope, and in another moment were sprawling on their stomachs close to the crest, their slouch hats flung aside.