The bluff-looking Englishman with the kind manner
made an excellent general, David thought.
They detained him only a half-hour, but when he left them it was with
the understanding that his army should move forward at once and attack
upon the morrow. It seemed a bit unusual, not to say unmilitary, to
David, to arrange such matters so thoroughly with the enemy, but his
corporal assured him that under certain conditions the thing was done.
There being no other part of the "Charge" that would fit, David said
over to himself a great many times on the way to the hospital the
opening lines:
"Half a league, half a league,
Half a league onward.
All in th' valley of Death
Rode th' six hundred...."
As he went up the hospital steps, tap-tapping on his crutches because he
would not let anybody carry him, the situation seemed to him much
better. He stopped upon the top step, balanced himself upon one crutch,
and waved the other at his staff--and at the "Six Hundred," pressing on
behind.
"Forward, th' Light Brigade!
'Charge for th' guns!' he said.
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