At three o’clock St. Arnaud rose. It was pitch dark but for the ruddy blaze of the fire still burning, and a cold, brown mist hid everything from sight except the ring of light from the fire. Gavin was still sleeping—he always slept until he was roused.
The orderly was already preparing something savoury in an iron pan, and when it was ready St. Arnaud gave Gavin a vigorous shake, which brought him to his feet at once. Without losing a moment he fell to upon the contents of the pan; for there was no hour of the day or night that Gavin Hamilton was not ready to eat and to fight.
“Bad for the Prussians, this fog,” he said between mouthfuls of bacon and cheese.
“Very,” laconically replied St. Arnaud, who was not half the trencher-man that Gavin was.
Their horses were already fed and saddled, and in a few minutes they were on horseback, going through the ranks of soldiers, who were munching their breakfasts while the horses munched their hay.
At half-past four o’clock, when it was still perfectly dark, the Austrians were ready and ranked and waiting for the church clock to toll five. It seemed a long wait, and St. Arnaud noticed Gavin blinking his eyes with sleep as he sat on his horse. Presently, through the white mist which wrapped the world for them, echoed five delicate, light strokes of the clock on the village hill, and immediately after the silvery sound of the Prussian bugles sounded faintly through the fog.
And then came a sudden deafening roar of artillery, a crashing of musketry from many thousand muskets, and in an instant of time the Prussians were surrounded by a ring of fire five miles in circumference.
By that time St. Arnaud’s and Gavin’s regiment was picking its way out of the woods, toward the village of Winschke, where it was to support the grenadiers. As they came into the open country the impenetrable mist lay over the whole earth; but it was lighted up at every moment, and in a vast circle, by the blaze of gunpowder. Across the valley, by the constant flashes they could see great masses of Austrian cavalry dashing themselves upon the Prussian infantry, which was completely surprised. The Prussians in the village were awake, too, and the Austrians were pouring in upon them. The thunder of the artillery, the sharp crash of musketry, the shouts and cries, rang through the hills and valleys, where a hundred and thirty thousand men were fighting.
It was trying work, standing still at the brow of the hill, waiting for the word to charge down the hill, ford the little river, and up the steep incline to the village. All around them was fighting—masses of Austrians, horse and foot, throwing themselves upon the Prussians, who were outnumbered two to one, but making a stiff defence and commanded by the greatest captain of the age.
“I wonder what kind of a humour the King was in this morning when he was waked by our pounding him?” asked Gavin of St. Arnaud.