Bullets flew by the ears of the charging English with a _phit, phit!_ and, when they ricocheted off the ground, with a _wh-e-e-e-w!_ Up and down bobbed the black heads in the long rank grass, and _bang, bang, bang_ went the guns.

Some of Baden-Powell's force wanted to dismount and return the fire, but B.-P., without a sword among his men, sang out, "Make a cavalry fight of it.

Forward! Gallop!" Then, as the horses raced snorting forward, and the English gave a shout of battle, the Matabele, 1200 against 250, poured an irregular volley into their enemies.

The next minute the horses were in among them, flashing by with the lather on their necks, while their riders' revolvers barked angrily in every quarter of the field.

The Matabele ran.