“I’ve been making it a better portrait of the general than it ever was of the king.”
“But yer’ve drawn the wrong man!” exclaimed the publican. “That quiet young man is not him. ’T is the heavy-nosed man is his Excellency.”
“Nonsense!” retorted the bondsman. “That loud-voiced fellow is Leftenant-Colonel Lee, a half-pay officer. Many and many ’s the time I’ve seen him—and if I had n’t, I’d have known the other for the general in a hundred.”
“I tell yer yer’re wrong,” moaned the hotel-keeper. “Any one can see he’s a ginral, an’ ’t is he gives all the orders fer victuals an’ grog.”
Charles laughed as he descended from the barrel and the cart. “’T is ever the worst wheel in the cart which makes the most noise,” he said, and walked away.
Two hours later the Invincibles were bunched upon the green. As the diners issued from the inn, Bagby gave an order. With some slight confusion the company fell in, and two more orders brought their guns to “present arms.”
“Bravo!” exclaimed Lee. “Here are some yokels who for once don’t hold their guns as if they were hoes.”
Joe, fairly swelling with the pride of the moment, came strutting forward. When he was within ten feet of the officers he took off his hat and bowed very low. “The Invincibles is ready to be put through their paces, your honour,” he announced.
“Damme!” sneered Lee, below his breath. “Here ’s a mohair in command who does n’t so much as know the salute.”
The tall officer, despite his six feet and three inches of height, swung himself lightly into the saddle without using a stirrup, and rode forward.