“Fourteenth, you are to be where you always desire to be,—in the advanced guard of the army. I have nothing to say on the subject of your conduct in the field. I know you; but if in pursuit of the enemy, I hear of any misconduct towards the people of the country, or any transgression of the general orders regarding pillage, by G——, I’ll punish you as severely as the worst corps in the service, and you know me!”
“Oh, tear an ages, listen to that; and there’s to be no plunder after all!” said Mickey Free; and for an instant the most I could do was not to burst into a fit of laughter. The word, “Forward!” was given at the moment, and we moved past in close column, while that penetrating eye, which seemed to read our very thoughts, scanned us from one end of the line to the other.
“I say, Charley,” said the captain of my troop, in a whisper,—“I say, that confounded cheer we gave got us that lesson; he can’t stand that kind of thing.”
“By Jove! I never felt more disposed than to repeat it,” said I.
“No, no, my boy, we’ll give him the honors, nine times nine; but wait till evening. Look at old Merivale there. I’ll swear he’s saying something devilish civil to him. Do you see the old fellow’s happy look?”
And so it was; the bronzed, hard-cast features of the veteran soldier were softened into an expression of almost boyish delight, as he sat, bare-headed, bowing to his very saddle, while Lord Wellington was speaking.
As I looked, my heart throbbed painfully against my side, my breath came quick, and I muttered to myself, “What would I not give to be in his place now!”
CHAPTER XX.
THE RETREAT OF THE FRENCH.