"It is no use trying to make our way through the broken ground, Mike. There is another road that goes through Huerne. We will strike that, and must so get round on the right of the enemy. Even if we come upon them, we are not likely to excite suspicion, as we shall be on a road leading from Oudenarde.
"I was noticing that road from the height. It runs into this again, near Mullen, and the enemy are not likely to have posted themselves so near to the river."
They rode on through Huerne. The village was full of wounded. No one paid them any attention, and they again went on, until suddenly they were challenged with the usual "Who comes there?"
"A staff officer, with despatches," Desmond replied.
He heard the butt of the soldier's musket drop upon the ground, and rode forward.
"Can you tell me, my man," he said as he reached the sentinel, "where the Duke of Marlborough is to be found?"
"I don't know, sir," the man replied. "Only our regiment is here. I know there are a number of cavalry away there on the left, and I heard someone say that the duke himself was there. There is a crossroad, a hundred yards farther on, which will lead you to them."
Thanking the man, Desmond rode on. A few bivouac fires had been lighted, and these were already beginning to burn low, the troops having dropped asleep almost as soon as they halted.
"I hope we shall meet no more of them, Mike," Desmond said, as they went on at a brisk trot. "I sha'n't feel quite safe till we get to Mullen."
They met, however, with no further interruption. As they crossed the bridge, they halted, took off the borrowed uniforms, threw away the headgear and put on their own hats, which they carried under their cloaks, and then rode on up the hill, after having first satisfied the officer commanding a strong guard placed at the bridge that they were friends.