"Holloa! all right. A reconnoitring party thrown out from the advanced guard of the second division. What are you?"
"A detachment for the first brigade."
"Scots?"
"Gordon Highlanders."
"Captain Wyndham took you for the drowsy Germans," said the officer, riding forward. "All is right, then; we belong to the 9th Light Dragoons, and General Long sent us forward to discover what the fire on the plain meant. We took you for some of the enemy, a party of whom we captured at Merida a few hours ago. Lord knows how they came there! I am sure old Sir Rowland does not."
"Then it seems the division is on a forced march?"
"Ay, the devil take it! It knocks up our cattle confoundedly," answered Wyndham. "The whole column will be here in an hour; but I must retire, and report to Long. Adieu. Party! threes about; forward,—trot!" and away they went.
Scarcely had five minutes elapsed, when the advanced guard, consisting of part of the 9th and 13th Light Dragoons, with the 2nd Hussars of the King's German Legion, came up at an easy trot. Fierce-looking fellows were these last,—wearing blue uniforms, large, heavy cocked-hats, leather jack-boots, and enormous moustaches. The appearance of the brigade of horse, as they passed, was at once striking, martial, and picturesque. The red glow of the blazing fire glittered on the polished harness of man and horse, and the bright blades of the crooked sabres.
They certainly had not the showy and ballroom appearance of cavalry on home service, yet they were the more military and soldier-like. Continual exposure to all weathers had bronzed their cheeks, and turned the once gay scarlet coat from its original hue to purple or black, and the bright epaulets to little more than dusky wire. The canvas havresack and round wooden canteen hung at their backs, and the coarse yellow blanket, strapped behind the saddle of officer and private, did not diminish the effect of the scene. When the morning was further advanced, and the banks of rolling vapour, which for some time rested on the face of the plain, rose into the air, Ronald found the baggage of the division close upon the spot occupied by the detachment which he now commanded. A strange medley the train presented. Horses, mules, and asses laden with trunks, portmanteaus, bags, soldiers' wives and children, tents and tent-poles, bedding and camp utensils; and here and there rode a few officers' wives on horseback, attired in close warm riding-habits. The whole of the long straggling array was surrounded by a guard with fixed bayonets, under the command of a field-officer, who spurred his horse at a gallop towards the party of Highlanders.
Stuart advanced to meet him. It was impossible to mistake the gigantic figure which bestrode the panting horse, the forest of ostrich plumes waving in his bonnet, or the stout oak staff which he flourished about.