"It is the fortune of war," the Austrian said with a smile; "and indeed, I don't think that you have any reason to grumble for, had that shot struck a few inches farther back, it would have carried off both your legs."
A sharp order was now given to retire. One of the troopers was ordered to give his horse to Fergus, and to mount behind a comrade; and they rode back to the Austrian main position, on the rising ground. Fergus was at once taken to the marshal in command of the Austrians.
"What is your name, sir?" the latter asked.
"Fergus Drummond. I have the honour to be an aide-de-camp on Marshal Keith's staff."
"A Scotchman, I suppose?" the marshal said, breaking into English.
"Yes, sir."
"What force is there opposed to us?"
"That I cannot say, sir. I only joined the army two days ago, and have been on the march ever since."
"Who is its commander?"
"Marshal Keith, sir; but the king himself is with it."