They kept their spaced, single file formation for two-thirds the
ascent of the hill--probably the nature of the ground forced them to
it--and then gradually drew together. Near the top, but still below the
summit, they entered a jumble of boulders and stopped. We could make out
several of them lying down. One fine old yellow fellow stretched himself
comfortably atop a flat rock, in the position of a bronze lion on a
pedestal. We waited twenty minutes to make sure they were not going to
move. Then, leaving all our men except the gunbearers under the tree, we
slipped back until out of sight, and began to execute our flank
movement. The chances seemed good. The jumble of boulders was surrounded
by open country, and it was improbable the lions could leave it without
being seen. We had arranged with our men a system of signals.
For two hours we walked very hard in order to circle out of sight, down
wind, and to gain the other side of the ridge back of the lions. We
purposed slipping over the ridge and attacking from above. Even this was
but a slight advantage. The job was a stiff one, for we might expect
certainly the majority to charge.
Therefore, when we finally deployed in skirmish order and bore down on
that patch of brush and boulders, we were braced for the shock of
battle. We found nothing. Our men, however, signalled that the lions had
not left cover. After a little search, however, we discovered a very
shallow depression running slantwise up the hill and back of the cover.
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