Presently he heard quick footsteps.
A small, alert figure stopped short, a small, abrupt hand saluted. "The General Commanding 'as sent for you, sir."
It was trumpeter Jigger of the Artillery.
"Are you the General's orderly, then?" asked Stafford quizzically.
"The orderly's gone w'ere 'e thought 'e'd find you, and I've come w'ere I know'd you'd be, sir."
"Where did he think he'd find me?"
"Wiv the 'osses, sir."
A look of gratification crossed Stafford's face. He was well known in the army as one who looked after his horses and his men. "And what made you think I was at the hospital, Jigger?"
"Becos you'd been to the 'osses, sir."
"Did you tell the General's orderly that?"