"Look out! By Jove! there's a Russian vedette!"
Then through my field-glass I might discern, between me and the sky, a Cossack in a fur cap, riding along the green ridge in the distance, with his knees up to his girdle, his back bent, his lance-head glinting in the sunshine, and the snub nose of his Calmuck visage planted almost between the drooping ears of his shaggy little horse, as he uttered a shrill whoop and galloped away.
"We seem to be coming closer and closer to those fellows," said the colonel. "Every moment I expect to see Cardigan with the advanced guard draw the cover, and receive a dose of grape from flying artillery."
"And those vedettes seem to be thrown forward from a large force, colonel," said Studhome. "I have already detected five or six different uniforms."
"Yes, Jack. So I would advise you to write a dutiful letter to your friends."
"Why, colonel?" said our adjutant, laughing.
"Because we shall certainly be under fire to-morrow."
To-morrow proved to be the day of the Alma—an eventful day for many.
The approach of danger made all who were in health grow high in spirit and hilarity.
"Rather different work this from the gravelled yards at Canterbury and Maidstone," said Wilford, joining us at a canter, to share a little conversation.