Captain Twentyman had done so during the voyage and on the line of march, and Ronald's quickness, alacrity, and acquaintance with his duty convinced him that the adjutant's supposition was a correct one.
"By Jove, Twentyman," an officer of the 91st said as he was standing beside him when Ronald rode up and delivered a message, "that fellow of yours is wonderfully well mounted. He's a fine soldierly-looking fellow, too, and I don't know why, but his face seems quite familiar to me."
"I fancy he has been an officer," Captain Twentyman replied, "we have several in the corps--men who have been obliged for some reason or other to sell out, and who, finding nothing else to do, have enlisted with us. You see the pay is a good deal higher than it is in the regular cavalry, and the men as a whole are a superior class, for you see they find their own horses and uniforms, so the life is altogether more pleasant than the regular service for a man of that kind. Almost all the men are of respectable family."
"I certainly seem to know his face," said the officer, thoughtfully, "although where I saw it I have not the least idea. What is his name?"
"He enlisted as Harry Blunt, but no doubt that's not his real name. Very few men of his kind, who enlist in the army, do so under their own names."
"I don't know any one of that name," the officer said, "but I certainly fancy I have seen your man before; however, I don't suppose in any case he would like being recognised; men who are under a cloud don't care about meeting former acquaintances."
A week later, to Ronald's great satisfaction, a party of twenty men, of whom he was one, under Troop-Lieutenant Daniels, were ordered to march the next morning to the Kabousie River, whence the settlers had written praying that a force might be sent for their protection, as the Kaffirs in the neighbourhood were becoming more and more insolent in their manner. Many of their cattle had been driven off, and they were in daily expectation of an attack. No waggons accompanied the party, as they would erect huts if they remained in one place, and would have no difficulty in obtaining provisions from the farmers. The men chosen for the service were all in high glee at the prospect of a change from the dulness of the life at King Williamstown, and were the objects of envy to their comrades.