Our morrow was like the day before, a steady grind of forty miles. Next day was the last before the bridge-effort. I took half of my men from the baggage train, and threw them forward on our line of march, to crown each hilltop. This was well done, but did not profit us, for in midmorning, with Muaggar, our ambush, in full sight, we were marching strongly and hopefully, when a Turkish aeroplane came from the south, flew the length of our column, and went down, before us, into Amman.
We plodded heavily into Muaggar by noon, and hid in the substructures of the Roman temple-platform. Our watchers took post on the crest, looking out over the harvested plains to the Hejaz Railway. Over these hill-slopes, as we stared through our glasses, the grey stones seemed to line out like flocks of grazing sheep.