CHAPTER XV.
THE DEAD HUSSAR.
"'Ods, sir, the hand o' Providence is in this!" exclaimed Hob, capering among the snow with renewed joy, but rather clumsily in his heavy jack boots; "and so you are the puir Redcoat thae devils were gaun to butcher!"
"How came you here, Hob?" I inquired in a somewhat agitated voice.
"How came you here, yourself, sir? But we hae nae time for spiering; we'll tak' their muskets and awa' to some place o' safety."
In a trice Hob tumbled the French corporal, who was just recovering, out of his crossbelts, and appropriating his cartridge-box, handed me one musket, while arming himself with the other. We then hastened at a smart pace round the thicket, leaving the two scoundrels, French and German, to rouse them as best they could, or to smother amid the snow, for Hob had dealt each a stunning blow on the head.
As we hurried on, he told me briefly and hastily that he and nine other Scots Greys had been confined in a chamber of the outworks of Ysembourg, where they were packed as closely as ever Governor Holwell's unfortunate companions were in the Black Hole at Calcutta; but suffered from extreme cold in place of heat. It occurred to one who had been a stonemason, that the paved floor was hollow underneath, so this suggested the idea of attempting an escape.
Hob had been left with his spurs on his heels, so with these he proceeded to pick out the lime, and on raising a stone slab a vaulted place was discovered below. They resolved to explore it, and soon found that it was a passage or gallery leading to the dry ditch of the fortress, and lighted by a row of loopholes meant for enfilading by musketry the ditch itself.
Two of these loopholes were rapidly beaten or torn into one by Hob's powerful hands armed with a stone, and then the whole party crawled through into the fosse undiscovered, and just as day was breaking.
The snow, which was falling fast, concealed all noise and kept the sentinels within their boxes, so by expertly using their hands and feet the fugitives crossed the ditch and clambered up the opposite side; but there a wooden stockade of considerable height presented itself, and while searching for an outlet they were fired on by a sentinel from above, and at the same moment encountered an officer going his rounds with an escort of the inlying picket.
An alarm was immediately given; a scuffle, in which the escort opposed their bayonets to the unarmed men, ensued, and all were retaken save Hob Elliot, whose vast strength and activity enabled him to elude the levelled muskets, beat down two or three of the escort, reach an open wicket, and escape into the obscurity of the snowy morning. He had wandered all the ensuing day without knowing which way to turn, inspired only by the hope of reaching the Lahn, but a skirmish which had been going on between the Light Dragoons of the allies and the French Hussars had compelled him to lurk in woods and thickets, as he feared being shot at by both alike; for in his present plight and after all he had undergone, very little of poor Hob's red coat remained, and of that the colour was somewhat dubious. Besides he was worn out with fatigue, and now nearly dead of cold, though his animal spirits bore bravely up against danger and adversity.