A Son of the Gods and A Horseman in the Sky | Page 4

You are not to forget the nature of this man's act; it is not permitted to
you to think of it as an instance of bravado, nor, on the other hand, a
needless sacrifice of self. If the enemy has not retreated, he is in force
on that ridge. The investigator will encounter nothing less than a line of
battle; there is no need of pickets, videttes, skirmishers, to give warning
of our approach; our attacking lines will be visible, conspicuous,
exposed to an artillery fire that will shave the ground the moment they
break from cover, and for half the distance to a sheet of rifle bullets in
which nothing can live. In short, if the enemy is there, it would be
madness to attack him in front; he must be maneuvered out by the
immemorial plan of threatening his line of communication, as
necessary to his existence as to the diver at the bottom of the sea his
air-tube. But how ascertain if the enemy is there? There is but one way:
somebody must go and see. The natural and customary thing to do is to
send forward a line of skirmishers. But in this case they will answer in

the affirmative with all their lives; the enemy, crouching in double
ranks behind the stone wall and in cover of the hedge, will wait until it
is possible to count each assailant's teeth. At the first volley a half of
the questioning line will fall, the other half before it can accomplish the
predestined retreat. What a price to pay for gratified curiosity! At what
a dear rate an army must sometimes purchase knowledge! "Let me pay
all," says this gallant man - this military Christ!
There is no hope except the hope against hope that the crest is clear.
True, he might prefer capture to death. So long as he advances, the line
will not fire, - why should it? He can safely ride into the hostile ranks
and become a prisoner of war. But this would defeat his object. It
would not answer our question; it is necessary either that he return
unharmed or be shot to death before our eyes. Only so shall we know
how to act. If captured - why, that might have been done by a
half-dozen stragglers.
Now begins an extraordinary contest of intellect between a man and an
army. Our horseman, now within a quarter of a mile of the crest,
suddenly wheels to the left and gallops in a direction parallel to it. He
has caught sight of his antagonist; he knows all. Some slight advantage
of ground has enabled him to overlook a part of the line. If he were
here, he could tell us in words. But that is now hopeless; he must make
the best use of the few minutes of life remaining to him, by compelling
the enemy himself to tell us as much and as plainly as possible - which,
naturally, that discreet power is reluctant to do. Not a rifleman in those
crouching ranks, not a cannoneer at those masked and shotted guns, but
knows the needs of the situation, the imperative duty of forbearance.
Besides, there has been time enough to forbid them all to fire. True, a
single rifle-shot might drop him and be no great disclosure. But firing
is infectious - and see how rapidly he moves, with never a pause except
as he whirls his horse about to take a new direction, never directly
backward toward us, never directly forward toward his executioners.
All this is visible through the glass; it seems occurring within
pistol-shot; we see all but the enemy, whose presence, whose thoughts,
whose motives we infer. To the unaided eye there is nothing but a black
figure on a white horse, tracing slow zigzags against the slope of a

distant hill - so slowly they seem almost to creep.
Now - the glass again - he has tired of his failure, or sees his error, or
has gone mad; he is dashing directly forward at the wall, as if to take it
at a leap, hedge and all! One moment only and he wheels right about
and is speeding like the wind straight down the slope - toward his
friends, toward his death! Instantly the wall is topped with a fierce roll
of smoke for a distance of hundreds of yards to, right and left. This is
as instantly dissipated by the wind, and before the rattle of the rifles
reaches us, he is down. No, he recovers his seat; he has but pulled his
horse upon its haunches. They are up and away! A tremendous cheer
bursts from our ranks, relieving the insupportable tension of our
feelings. And the horse and its rider? Yes, they are up