"Hoch, Got tam! it's mutiny and repellion this! Did ye move yer hand to yer dirk, Macfarlane?" asked Macdonald furiously. "Did ye grip yer dirk to threaten me?"
"It's a far cry to Lochowe. Gin you and I strode there, ye would na cock your feather or craw sae crouse," said the other coolly. "It's piper-matchor you are, and sorrow tak the hoor that Hector Macfarlane, the son of Rori-bheg, has to obey your orders!" The angry reply of the non-commissioned officer was lost in the sound of the war-pipe, the drones of which Macfarlane threw over his shoulder, and strode down the street swelling with Highland indignation, while he made Merida ring far and wide to the tune of Johnnie Cope, the warning for the march, while the drums, bugles, and trumpets of other regiments, horse and foot, were heard in various parts of the echoing city.
"Holloa! Serjeant Macdonald, what is all this noise and uproar about?" asked Stuart.
"I ken nae mair than an unporn pairn, sir," replied the leader of the pipers; "put it's a tammed cauld morning to rouse puir chields frae their plankets. There is a soughing meeserable Hanoverian wind plawing frae the east, sharp enough to skin our pare hoghs, and be tammed tilt! And that trunken loon, Macfarlane, has sae mony queghsfu' under his belt, that he took the dorts, and in spite o' a' orders blew the pibroch o' Lochsloy. A ponnie thing for him—the son o' Roribheg, a riever, hanged at Crieff for liftin', to speak in defiance at me!"
The voice of the adjutant bawling for his horse was now heard, as he issued from under the piazzas, attended by an orderly with a lighted lantern, to collect the reports and get the companies mustered. The men were already falling in at the alarm post, and the musquet-butts were heard clattering heavily on the pavement, as one by one they took their places in the ranks.
"Stuart, don your fighting jacket; pack up your best scarlets for a ball when we reach Madrid," cried Claude, as he passed the window. "We are about to show Mr. Soult the point of war,
'Gin he meets us in the morning,'
as the song says. A despatch has within this hour arrived from Wellington, and we are ordered off to the front forthwith, to prevent Estremadura being invaded. Turn out as soon as you can; the corps are nearly all mustered in our Plaza de Armas. Ho, there! orderly drummer; beat for the coverers! Fall in, covering Serjeants!"
The grey day-light was now beginning to make objects visible. The sky was clear, and of a cold and dark blue, and a chilling blast swept through the dull and gloomy streets, where all was martial bustle and preparation. While dressing himself with more haste than care, Stuart heard the voice of Cameron and the adjutant ordering and directing the serjeant-major; he in turn bawled to the Serjeants of companies, who were vociferously calling the rolls, in which an immense number of Jocks, and Tams, and Donalds followed each other in succession. All was commotion and 'hurry-skurry,' amid which De Costa's brigade of Spanish horse galloped past, brandishing their swords, and shouting, "Arma! arma! Viva! Viva!" with might and main. General Long's brigade of British followed, but in characteristic silence.
To prevent Marshal Soult from invading Estremadura from the neighbouring province, Sir Rowland Hill marched his brigades of horse and foot to Sancho Perez, collecting from Zafra and other places on his march all the Spanish and Portuguese troops he could bring together to meet the enemy, who advanced towards him in great strength, plundering and destroying the grain and vines on their route. At Zafra they attacked and defeated an advanced corps of Spanish dragoons, commanded by the Condé Penne Villamur. Animated by this success, Soult continued to press forward at the head of thirty-eight or forty thousand men; and Sir Rowland Hill prudently fell back upon the heights of Albuera with his division, twenty-two thousand strong. There he took up a position, which every means were taken to strengthen by the erection of trenches, breastworks, and traverses, at the formation of which fatigue-parties wrought day and night. Fresh troops joined them here daily, and Ronald heard, with considerable pleasure, that Don Alvaro's troop of lances were expected to join the Spanish brigade. Alvaro's command was a sort of independent troop, unattached to any regiment, like les compagnies franches, the free troops or companies, in the old French service. The second division occupied this entrenched position twelve days, awaiting the appearance of Soult, who advanced no nearer than Santa Martha, a town about a long day's march distant. He showed no disposition to fight a second battle of Albuera, the ground being so strong and its occupiers so determined, that the heights could only have been captured with immense loss,—if indeed Soult could have carried them at all. On the first night after the position was taken up, a blunder of Evan's caused no ordinary commotion throughout the camp.