Making his way back again through the house and the courtyard, Colonel Audley once more reached the wicket gate, and found his horse, which he had tethered there, apparently not much troubled by the loss of his ear. He mounted, and galloped back to the main position, crossing the hollow road just below the spot where the few companies of Byng's brigade not engaged in the struggle about Hougoumont were posted. He did not see Byng himself, but gave Macdonnell's message to a senior officer, who begged him to carry it further, to the Prince of Orange's staff. He rode on towards Maitland's brigade, where he was informed the Prince was to be found, but was told there by Maitland himself that the Prince had moved to the left, towards Alten's division.
"I'll send one of my family, if you like," Maitland said. "The trouble is to get the carts through to Hougoumont."
"You have enough on your hands, sir, by the look of it. I must pass Alten's division in any case."
Maitland had his glass to his eye, and replied in a preoccupied tone: "Very well. I don't like the look of those fellows moving up round the eastern side of Hougoumont. I wonder - no, never mind: off with you!"
The Colonel left him still watching the stealthy advance of a large body of French light troops who were creeping along the eastern hedge of the Hougoumont enclosure with the evident intention of turning Saltoun's left flank, and galloped on towards the centre of the line.
The Prince of Orange, who was surrounded by numerous staff, was not difficult to pick out. He was wearing his English hussar dress, with an orange cockade in his hat, and was standing beside Halkett's bridge on the right flank of the division, his glass, like Maitland's trained on the advancing French skirmishers. The Colonel rode towards him, but arrived in his presence in a precipitate fashion which he did not intend. A shell, bursting within a few yards of him, brought his horse down in mid-gallop; the Colonel was shot over his head, feeling at the same moment something like a red-hot knife sear his left thigh, and fell almost at the feet of Lord March.
The explosion, and the heavy fall, knocked him senseless for a moment or two, but he soon came to himself, to find March's face bent over him. He blinked at it, recollected his surroundings, and tried to laugh. "Good God, what a way to arrive!"
"Are you hurt, Charles?"
"No, merely dazed," replied the Colonel, grasping his friend's hand, and pulling himself up. "My horse killed?"
"One of the men shot him. His fore legs were blown off at the knees. We thought you were gone. You are hurt! I'll get you to the rear."