"But some of our Highland corps are slower still," remarked an officer.
"I have known a fellow to be four years an ensign in one of them, and every month at least once under fire all the time," said Askerne.
"They never sell out or purchase in, and then there is no killing them by bullets, starvation, or fatigue."
"For the baggage guard to-morrow, Mr. Monkton," said old Sergeant-major Calder, approaching the group, who were lounging on the grass; "for the colours, Mr. Hardinge and Mr. Boyle."
He saluted and retired, while Monkton apostrophized the baggage guard in pretty round terms.
"I should like to have halted one night at Badajoz," said Colville; "there is a theatre there, and other means of spending money which smack of civilization. Conyers——"
"Who's he?"
"Conyers of the 10th Hussars, one of Hope's extra aides-de-camp, says there are some beautiful girls to be seen on the promenade of poplars, the Prado beside the river, in the evening, where they all go veiled, with fireflies strung in their hair, producing a very singular effect."
"I would rather be whispering soft nothings into their pretty ears and over their white shoulders than be bivouacking here," said Monkton.
"I believe you, my friend; but perhaps the knife of some devil of a lover or cortejo might give your whisperings a point you never expected," replied Askerne.