No misgiving, not a fear--
Nor was I the last astraddle
Nor the hindmost in the rear
When the bugle sounded clear--
"Boot and saddle!"
Right away went men and horses,
Both as eager for the fun;
Through the drifts and dried-up courses,
Where like mad the waters run
After storms or through the winters,
Mashing all they meet to splinters--
Ready, hand and sword and gun.
Every eye was keen to mark,
And the tongue alone seemed idle
Every ear alert to hark
As we scanned each crevice dark--
Bit and bridle!
Here and there the startled chirrup
Of strange creatures, as we go,
Standing sometimes in the stirrup,
Just to get a bigger show;
Till we gain our point, the entry--
There the pass, no sign of sentry,
Not a sound above, below!
Clear the coast, the savage gave
Never hint to south or norward;
Was he napping in his cave,
With that quiet like the grave?--
Steady, forward!
Further in; the rats were sleeping;
We would grimly smoke them out,
With a dose of lead for keeping
And a fence of flame about;
They might wake perhaps from shelter,
At our bullets' ghastly pelter,
To the brief and bloody rout!--
But, next moment, we were wrapt
Down to saddle girth and leather
In the fire of foes unmapt;
_We_ were turned, and fairly trapt--
"Keep together!"
On they poured in thousands, hurling
Steel that stabbed and belching ball
From a host of rifles, curling
Serpent-wise around us all.
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