The Great Ball Game, 5th July

Willoughby kicked Herrero into a run, holding the ball pressed tight to his chest. Kenley caught up to him. There was some cursing. They had heard the young one do so, but he was not the only one. Luckily they were not in the position or have the permission to fire at the riders else the hussars might have had their last laugh. They had wanted their ball back. The plan had been foolish, hasty but it had seemingly worked. They had seen the opportunity without taking too much care to see which officers, if any, were present.

There was a rifleman trying to halt one of the horses, but short of standing in the way and endangering himself, he was not able to do too much. It was quickly turning from a friendly game into an attempt to get their 'toy' back. Willoughby may not have heard rifleman's officer, his fellow troopers may not have heard it either or else they have quite innocently pretended to do so as they continued towards the open space with their prize.

"They've got our ball!" Cotton was incensed. "The fucking, low-down, no-good, hamfisted horse-brained clodhoppers have got our ball!" He almost shied a stone at the one on the horse but thought better of it, though he was still spitting feathers, and shook his fist at them.

The appearance of the hussars was unexpected, as was their theft of the ball. Mayden watched the scene unfolding before him with distaste, but he made no move to involve himself in the pursuit of the thieves.

If he stayed here, however, he'd probably be roped into helping get the ball back. That was the last thing he wanted. Best to make himself scarce then. This was the 60th's problem after all, not his. He didn't owe them a thing. With a shrug to adjust the hang of his rifle from his shoulder, Mayden headed off. There was nothing else to see here anyway, now the game was over.

When Edward reached the horses, he quite startled the piquet there by untying Trueno's reins and jumping into the saddle without much explanation beyond "Just a ball game!".

Then he was off after the hussars, Trueno's big hooves thundering over the ground. The horse was well rested and quite eager to show his power, and the pile of jackets that formed the goal was easily jumped. The big black kicked out forcefully, but Edward knew that peculiarity of his horse rather well by now and was well prepared for it. Keeping his seat and steadying the horse again, carefull not to run over any riflemen himself, he quickly looked around. Who had the ball now?

"Willoughby!" Vickery shouted, pointing to the lad in question. He had seen Torrington look between the Hussars and made a guess at what the Engineer was trying to work out.

There was morose, angry muttering around him, in English and German, but he didn't have the heart to curb it, not when their game had been so rudely spoilt.

The trio on horses had done a certain amount of exchanges and now it seemed that Willoughby had gone to clutch the round possession again though his pelisse had obstructed the view rather well. The hussars had split the moment they had seen pursuit was no longer on foot but had now become one of four horse legs as well.

He had seen another rifleman approach. This one a younger fellow with a mug of tea in hand. With a sharp change the horse kicked some of the earth right at the lad who had perhaps imagined himself trampled with the close encounter of the animal. He had however come to curl over the mug in protection of it and then breathed a sigh of relief as that horseman was past. Pye blinked and then looked rather confused.

Why had the riflemen stopped the game? Who had the ball now?

"Watch where you'm a-goin', you gurt ugly lummox!" Cotton yelled at the fast-disappearing cavalryman, who had practically ridden Pye down.

He ran over to the younger rifleman. "You all right there?"

Zachary looked up at Cotton, then looked around again, just to make sure the horse was gone and muttered something about them horses being dangerous before, with great relief, exposing the mug fairly full still.

"...'m a'right. Got this for Mister Torrington... couse he asked for it. Why's t' cavalry 'ere?" He hesitated. "n' gone?...wot's they stole?" He looked up to Cotton again. He had a good inkling on what was going on, but he did hope he had mistaken at assuming so. Though listening to the shouts even more, and the curses, left little doubt.

"They pinched our ball, the bleedin' selfish swine," Cotton replied. "One of 'em was on a horse, so Captain Torrin'ton's gone arter him." He sighed and kicked at the dusty ground. "Just 'cause we was havin' a bit of fun an' all."

Edward tossed a grateful salut to Vickery and set off after Willoughby. He mumbled some curses when Willoughby nearly ran Pye over and slowed down again until the other rider was safely out of the group of riflemen, not wanting to chase him into one, but then he let the reins drop and let Trueno have his head. Well aware that his horse would probably not win by speed, but well by stamina, he didn't try to catch up straight away, but rather to cut Willoughby off from the others and shepherd him into the direction of some woodland.

If he could prevent them from throwing the ball to each other and get Willoughby into more difficult terrain, his chances were infinitely better.
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When Freddie saw the hussar's horse swerve right in front of his friend, he fired some curses at the animal's back that would have made it blush if it had understood them.
Immediately stopping his fruitless chase, the young German turned and galloped back towards Pye.

"Hat er Dich erwischt?", he called out even before he had reached them, quite forgetting that Pye's language skills were probably not that far advanced yet.

Kenley tried to draw the rider away from his target, but since he could hardly run his horse into him, his attempts were mostly to get in the way and then slow down. The other rider had begun slowing and had taken a new route which appeared to be intent either to cut the officer off at one point or..well the next could have only been that he was returning to camp.

Willoughby had been glad to have the green grasshoppers out of the way. The last thing they needed again, was to run over one of them by accident. He had gotten quite close with that young one. Luckily he'd had sense enough not to try bolting off in just the wrong direction. Herrero gained speed, passing the camp on the left of them. Perhaps he could shake off his tail, the terrain ahead seemed promising.

---

"Erwish....? He's not made me wish come true no." Zachary looked a little confused. He glanced at Cotton though quickly. "Are we not going to follow them?.. they've got our ball so's...." But they were rather fast and now he had tea in a mug and no Torrington to give it too. Darnit! Why did officers always run off when they were supposed to stay put?

At Pye's answer, Freddie looked equally confused, until he had figured out what the problem could be, but till then he had already understood 'follow' and looked expectantly at Cotton while dusting his friend off.

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Edward realized what that other hussar was doing and grinned. Well, if that was their plan, they could well taste a spoon of their own medicin! Riding up until the last possible moment, he threw Trueno around. Having slowed down a bit before and having the huge stallion well in hand, there was no danger of crashing into the other horse, but Trueno, immediately picking up speed again and quite irritated about the obstacle, kicked up enough dust and stones with his large hooves to more than avenge Pye.

Kenley's horse neighed and reared. The sudden apparition of the horse so close had startled it, and his nostrils had flared. He thumped both feet hard into the ground, reared again and Kenley had needed all his skill as a rider not to land on his bum or head right beside the animal.

His training however had brought the animal back under control, but now a good few paces behind Torrington. Kenley was wiping at his eyes. Some of the dust had actually reached them and the nasty little bits were now irritating them. He did not loose too much time with this though and started after Torrington again, hoping he might catch up. But as the distance grew greater , thinking that he might not.

Willoughby glanced over his shoulder. He grinned and ducked to the left, kicking the horse into the sharp turn and keeping himself on its back. Now if only he could disappear behind those rocks and trees, make another such turn, then slow down to a neat pace without being seen!

Cotton blinked at the question. Follow someone on a horse?! Even Pye and Rottlaender wouldn't be able to catch up by now - or to keep up.

"Think Captain Torrin'ton's gone after 'em." He shrugged. "They'm on horseback." He could not, for the life of him, remember the German for horse, though.

Trueno answered with a loud snort and tried to go even faster to reach the other horse, his Andalusian pride prickled, but his rider held him back. Edward had no wish to loose his horse to a broken leg or the game to overshooting his mark or tiring his mount out too soon. He knew the terrain offered numerous possibilities to hide, so he couldn't affort to let the hussar out of sight for a moment, but he also did not need to catch up just yet. Chances were that his own horse was superior to a simple trooper's on any longer distance, so time was on his side for the moment.
---

Freddie frowned heavily, trying to think up some clever plan that would allow them to beat the hussars, but could come up with nothing. Cotton's shrug seemed to indicate that he had no idea either, but, as Cotton had most likely pointed out, the Captain had gone after the impertinent hussars and would certainly bring back both the ball and the hussars' heads.

Since their game was ended by default now, he thought it best to return to his usual routine ... which at this point would be tea for his Captain, which led quickly to the question why Pye was holding a steadily cooling mug of tea without drinking it.

They were trying to outrun the other horse. This of course meant that there was a great deal of running involved. It meant manevours which would tire a horse and such that Willoughby might have skipped for fear of injuring his horse. He had glanced over his shoulder again just to see the other man still in pursuit. Not too fast, not too slow. He was too close that his plan of slipping away around the rocks would have worked.

Instead he opted for the open ground. Kenley was nowhere to be seen, so, their other horseman. It was just Willoughby and Torrington now and the stamina of their horses. Herrero was giving it his all, but of course..he might have been better saving some of that strength to run longer. A time later the horse began to slow, with the terrain more rocky and uneven, another reason for slowing down presented itself and Timothy had to bow to its demands too.

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"...He'll show'em!..." Zachary murmured, hoping that to be true. "Not ter mess with the riflemen... and that they're not all that jus' couse they'm riding horses." He looked at Freddie and after he realised the other boy was gazing at the mug he held in hand he went to explain. "Capn' Torrington wanted it..cos' he wanted sumthin' to drink.. so I got it....only now that 'e's gone it'll go cold." He frowned.

Freddie frowned at the cup as well, trying to figure out whether it would be permissible to tell Pye to drink the tea himself. Unclaimed cups of tea had not occured sofar in his career as a servant, but surely the Captain would not want cold tea, and he did not believe that lords did touch reheated tea.

Deciding that if the tea had to be poured away anyway, it might as well be by the way of Pye's throat, he suggested: "Drink it?"
Immediately he looked up at Cotton. Was it the right decision?
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Edward slowed his horse, too, although Trueno's longer stride still brought him slowly closer. Recalling the terrain, he called out: "Not much further is a ravine that will end the race anyway. You might as well give up here!"

If he gave away the slight advantage of knowing the terrain, Edward didn't mind. If the hussar tried to make a last dash, it was infinitely preferable if he tried it here and not anywhere near an eight foot drop. This was a game after all, and he would rather loose than see the other come to serious harm.

Top ten reasons why it was foolhardy to race against a Royal Engineer Captain? One of them was certainly that the lot probably knew the surroundings far better than the hussars, that only made strolls across it. Unless they were of course ordered on patrol, but even then.

Willoughby did not stop though again, he slowed down, preserving some of the horse's energy. He glanced towards the captain again. Still a distance away, but shorter than before. He turned a corner, so that he was now showing his side to the other man. He could try to come around him. Run as fast and hope they did not meet? Or back away in the same direction he had gone until now and hope that the other one was merely lying?

He could of course do the third thing and wait.. turn the horse to face The captain and have it walk backwards in a bit of a 'strut'. Willoughby opted, surprisingly, for the last.

Zachary looked at Cotton as well, hoping that he might shed light to what they should do with the tea. He could not offer it cold, but could he just drink it, because it had become cold? He was willing to get more for the captain or let Freddie do so, if he was told it was not his place.

"You might's well drink that," Cotton said in reply to Rottlaender's slightly panicked look, indicating the mug of tea Pye was holding. "It'll be easy enough to make him another cup when he gets back." And hopefully he'd have their ball with him, too.

Warily, Edward came closer, prepared to have to set his horse after the hussar in another mad dash. His eyes were searching for the ball. Perhaps there was some chance that the other's arms had tired and he could snatch it away.

"My compliments on your riding skills ... Willoughby, isn't it?"

Edward frowned for a moment and glanced sharply at the other man, then shook his head as if to clear it.

Willoughby kept his horse going backwards. Herrero might have done it, but as any other horse, he was quite uncomfortable at having to move in the direction which he had not seen, so the progress was slow. His nostrils were still flaring and he was breathing deeply. At one point he shook his head and took a deep gulp of breath, sighing on the way out almost as if to clear his lungs.

"Yes, sir." He had heard Vickery call his name. No use to pretend this was not his now. Herrero swished his tail and halted briefly to paw at the ground then, with an annoyed neigh, went backwards again. He studied Torrington. Usually any officer was just as same as the other, it was the uniform that he'd look at, not the face.

He dropped his gaze, still clutching at his little prize under the pelisse. He refrained from a cheeky retort for now. If this was an officer who wanted to cause trouble, it was best to keep as little reasons for it appearing as possible. He personally might not be as able to cause it, but officers had friends.

Trueno, deciding that he had won the race and the other stallion was retreating because of that, arched his neck and made a fine production of himself, snorting and strutting. When his rider didn't allow him to surge forward and oust the other horse with a few well-placed bites, he shook his head and danced sideways.

Edward sympathized with his horse - he was feeling the elation of the chase himself and would have liked nothing better than to simply grab the ball and gallop back to the camp in triumph, but he knew that things weren't that easy. So he checked his horse again before he could spook the other.

"After you have now held up the honour of the hussars, wouldn't you think it would be better to hand over that ball? I assure you, your comerads will not be able to find you quickly enough, and your horse is starting to flag. It would be a pity to push it over the line just for the sake of a game, and not at all responsible either."

Herrero snorted and stopped. He pawed at the ground and arched his head higher. His ears shifted forward, alert. He took a step towards Trueno. He would let no over pompous horse think they had won just because his rider had decided not to let him run no more or kick! He snapped forward, though with the distance, they were still safely appart. Willoughby tugged on his reins making Herrero atleast stop, if not back away.

"My horse is far from tired, sir. He was merely halted because I chose it so." Herrero seemed to think that the display of Trueno truly had no right to go unchecked! He had suddenly lurched forward, thumped both his feet sharply on the ground in a threatening manner, bared his teeth and then, with a rather pleased look on his face, reobtained a lovely look of peace and tranquility.

"That ball has been ours first, sir. We were merely reclaiming it."

When Herrero lurched, Trueno reared, screaming. Edward, who had felt the tensing of his horse's muscles and knew his temperament well enough to know that he would not let such provocation go unanswered, kept his seat. Instead of checking the horse immediately, he guided Trueno into the impressive rear of the High dressage and held him there for a moment, quite proud that his horse was able and still willing after the chase to follow him there.

The engineer had no knowlege of the prehistory of the ball, but after a moment's consideration, he decided that it had very little influence on the current situation anyway.

"Yet you tried to reclaim it in a rather ... shall we say inofficial fashion, and have not managed to escape with it yet."