“How heavy the ground is here!” whispered Hampden, as our horses sunk above the fetlocks. “We had better stretch away to the right; the rise of the hill will favor us.”
“Hark!” said I; “did you not hear something? Pull up,—silence now. Yes, there they come. It’s a patrol; I hear their tramp.” As I spoke, the measured tread of infantry was heard above the storm, and soon after a lantern was seen coming along the causeway near us. The column passed within a few yards of where we stood. I could even recognize the black covering of the shakos as the light fell on them. “Let us follow them,” whispered I; and the next moment we fell in upon their track, holding our cattle well in hand, and ready to start at a moment.
“Qui va là?” a sentry demanded.
“La deuxième division,” cried a hoarse voice.
“Halte là! la consigne?”
“Wagram!” repeated the same voice as before, while his party resumed their march; and the next moment the patrol was again upon his post, silent and motionless as before.
“En avant, Messieurs!” said I, aloud, as soon as the infantry had proceeded some distance,—“en avant!”
“Qui va là?” demanded the sentry, as we came along at a sharp trot.
“L’état-major, Wagram!” responded I, pressing on without drawing rein; and in a moment we had regained our former position behind the infantry. We had scarcely time to congratulate ourselves upon the success of our scheme, when a tremendous clattering noise in front, mingled with the galloping of horses and the cracking of whips, announced the approach of the artillery as they came along by a narrow road which bisected our path; and as they passed between us and the column, we could hear the muttered sentences of the drivers, cursing the unseasonable time for an attack, and swearing at their cattle in no measured tones.
“Did you hear that?” whispered Hampden; “the battery is about to be directed against the San Benito, which must be far away to the left. I heard one of the troop saying that they were to open their fire at daybreak.”