Our battles
always began with missiles; and I wonder, as often as I recall the
fact, that so few serious accidents were the consequence. From the
disadvantages of the ground, we had little chance against the
stone-showers which descended upon us like hail, except we charged
right up the hill, in the face of the inferior but well-posted enemy.
When this was not in favour at the moment, I employed myself in
collecting stones and supplying them to my companions, for it seemed
to me that every boy, down to the smallest in either school, was
skilful in throwing them, except myself: I could not throw halfway up
the hill. On this occasion, however, I began to fancy it an unworthy
exercise of my fighting powers, and made my first attempt at
organizing a troop for an up-hill charge. I was now a tall boy, and of
some influence amongst those about my own age. Whether the enemy saw
our intent and proceeded to forestall it, I cannot say, but certainly
that charge never took place.
A house of some importance was then building, just on the top of the
hill, and a sort of hand-wagon, or lorry on low wheels, was in use for
moving the large stones employed, the chips from the dressing of which
were then for us most formidable missiles. Our adversaries laid hold
of this chariot, and turned it into an engine of war. They dragged it
to the top of the hill, jumped upon it, as many as it would hold, and,
drawn by their own weight, came thundering down upon our troops.
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