"Yes," replied Macdonald, springing up the rocks to where Ronald sat, and leaping to his side with the activity of a deer; "but you nearly made an end of me a dozen times. Every minute you sent a large rock sousing down the ravine upon my very path. Did you not hear me shout? Why, man, you have but half the ear of a Highland forester! I hope I am in time for the marquess's arrival?"
"Yes; but what a devilish long time you have been! Madame the baroness and her squire were certainly in no hurry to reach the rock of Maya."
"Why no; to tell you the truth," replied Macdonald, laughing as heartily as his lack of breath would permit him, "we consulted our own convenience and pleasure, and it has been the most agreeable night, or rather morning, march since I first saw the spires of Lisbon."
"So I suppose. But did you escape the French sentries?"
"How would I have been here else, Ronald? They are posted at the foot of the rock of Maya, and must have been blind, if they did not see me. I led the young lady within a hundred yards of them, and there bade her tenderly adieu."
"She thanked you, of course?"
"By so delightful a salute, that I began to persuade her to return with me; but she placed her little hand upon my mouth, and, as the novels say, vanished from my sight,—in other words crossed the enemy's lines: so now, I suppose, she is in the arms of monsieur the baron, or as he would be more appropriately styled, Jock Law, laird of the Clapperknowes. What a pity 'tis that so sweet a girl should be the wife of that gruff old humbug! Hah! there go the pipes!"
"Wellington has come!"
The out-picquets rejoined their several brigades, which in a few minutes were in motion, and marched from Elizondo with their bands playing, and entered among the mountains towards that part of Maya where General Gazan's corps were in position. In the forenoon they came in sight of the enemy, when Sir Rowland Hill halted, and Wellington, attended by a single aide-de-camp, rode forward to reconnoitre. Ronald Stuart had now for the first time an opportunity of particularly observing that great leader, of whom the world then heard, and were yet to hear, so much.
He was mounted on a slight but stout crop-tailed horse, without trappings; a pair of plain holsters were at his saddle-bow, and a short sabre hung from his belt. The exceeding plainness of his attire—a coarse blue cloak, and weather-beaten cocked-hat, totally destitute of ornament—contrasted strongly with the richly laced jacket and pelisse of his aide, an officer of the 10th Hussars, that regiment of exquisite celebrity. Wellington gave a keen but hasty glance along the ranks of the bronzed Highlanders as he rode past, and then bent his sharp eyes on the heights where the dark columns of French infantry appeared in position, their long lines of serried arms glancing as usual in the sun. For about three minutes the marquess carefully made a reconnoissance of the foe through his telescope, and then issued his orders.