Jeremy sighed a little as he looked at the camp; but his spirits immediately revived. The Speaker was taking short steps up and down, rubbing his hands together and lifting up his nostrils to snuff the sweet, dry air. A kind of exhilaration seemed to fill him and to restore him to his former self. Jeremy caught it from him, and his voice was lively when he shouted to a servant to fetch thither the principal officers.
The council of war had hardly gathered when a new report came that the enemy were marching on Hitcham, following the main road that had once crossed the river at Maidenhead and now came around by the north bank. Jeremy’s plans were prepared, and he rapidly disposed his army, with the right wing resting on the slightly-rising ground of Stoke Park, the center running through Chalk Hill and Chalvey, and the left, guarding the bridge, in the empty fields where Eton once had been.
As he gave his orders, with some show of confidence and readiness, he tasted for a moment the glories of a commander-in-chief; but when he detailed to Thomas Wells his duties as the leader of the right wing of the army, his heart unreasonably sank and he faltered over his words.
“I understand,” the Canadian replied gravely, with an inscrutable expression. “I am to stand on the line between Stoke and Salt Hill until you give the word. Then you will send up the reserves and I am to advance, wheel around, and force them against the river.”
“That’s it,” said Jeremy with a heartiness he did not feel.
“So be it ... sir,” Thomas Wells assented lingeringly; then, with an air of hesitation, he murmured: “I suppose you’re quite certain ... that they’ll mass against our left ... that they won’t attack me and try to drive us into the river?”
“I’ll take the chance, anyway,” Jeremy answered stoutly; and, nodding, he rode off to look at the guns, which were under the command of Jabez, immediately behind the center of the line.
“We’ll do them in, master,” said Jabez reassuringly. “Never you fear. You leave that to us.” As he spoke a sharp crackling of rifle fire arose by the river-bank near Queen’s Eyot.
“Well, we’ve started, Jabez,” Jeremy smiled at him. “I must go back.” As he rode again towards his chosen point for directing the battle his breath came regularly and his heart was singularly at rest.