O’Brien then, with some difficulty, pulled off the man’s jacket and trowsers, and having so done, buried him in the snow. The poor girl was despoiled of her gown and upper petticoat with every decency, and also buried. We collected the clothes and stilts, and removed to another quarter, where we pitched upon a hovel and took our meal. “Peter,” said O’Brien, “lie down and sleep, and I’ll keep the watch. Not a word, I will have it—down at once.”
I did so, and in a very few minutes was fast asleep, for I was worn out with cold and fatigue. Just as the day broke, O’Brien roused me; he had stood sentry all night, and looked very haggard.
“O’Brien, you are ill,” said I.
“Not a bit; but I’ve emptied the brandy-flask; and that’s a bad job. However, it is to be remedied.”
I did not go to sleep again for some time, I was so anxious to see O’Brien fast asleep. He went in and out several times, during which I pretended to be fast asleep; at last it rained in torrents, and then he laid down, and in a few minutes, overpowered by nature, he fell fast asleep, snoring so loudly that I was afraid some one would hear us. I then got up and watched, occasionally lying down and slumbering awhile, and then going down to the door.
Chapter Twenty Three.
Exalted with our success, we march through France without touching the ground—I become feminine—We are voluntary conscripts.
At day-break I called O’Brien, who jumped up in a great hurry.