[*] Death-hunters,—a name given by soldiers to those who follow armies to strip the dead after a battle.Scarcely were they gone when another wretch appeared, bent on the same disgraceful errand. He was either a robber or guerilla, and carried on the hollow of his left arm a musquet, from which dangled a long leather sling. A pewter crucifix glittered on the band of his broad-leaved hat, and the polished brass hilts of the double daggers and pistols in his sash gleamed in the light of the moon, which at that moment shone forth with peculiar brilliancy. A new pair of large epaulets, which Stuart had put on a few days before, attracted this worthy's attention, and he came straight towards the wearer to possess himself of them.What were the feelings of the young Highlander to behold in the robber the abhorred Narvaez Cifuentes, the destroyer of the noble and beautiful Catalina! An electric shock seemed to pass over every fibre, and again his heart beat violently. He grasped tighter the thistle-hilt of his short weapon, and watched with an eagle eye the motions of the robber. Narvaez knew him the moment their eyes met, and uttering a short but emphatic oath, he sprung forward and leaped upon Ronald with his whole weight, and pressing a knee upon each arm, perfectly incapacitated him from making any defence, especially in his weak and wounded state."How now, my gaysenor soldado!" said Narvaez with a chuckling laugh, after they had glared at each other in silence for a few seconds. "Methinks we have met at last, under circumstances somewhat disadvantageous to your safety."Ronald's only reply was a frantic attempt to free himself from the iron grasp of the other."Be still,—carajo!" said the ruffian as he unsheathed a poniard; "be still, or I may mercifully give a deep stroke at once, without having the little conversation I wish to enjoy with you, before you die.""Dog of a robber!—dog of a Spaniard!" gasped Ronald in a hoarse accent. "Free but my right hand and, weak and exhausted as I am, I will meet you—""Ho,Demonios!a rare request!Par Diez!no, no,mi amigo. I will have these bright epaulets, (which I beg you will not spoil by struggling so,) and I will have this golden cross and other things, without either the risk or trouble of trying points with you. Hah! have you forgotten the night when we first met at Albuquerque? By our Lady of Majorga, you shall this night know that I have not! We have many odd scores to pay off, and they may as well be settled here on the field of Vittoria, as elsewhere. Besides, Senor Valour, when your corpse is found, you will be mentioned among the killed in theGaceta de la Regencia. Hah! hah!""Wretch! you forget that this day my blood has been shed for Spain and Ferdinand VII.!""You have been paid for that, I suppose," replied the fellow, accompanying his observation, which might have suited a British radical, with an insultng laugh, while Stuart, panted with rage."Now, then,—what would you do were you released by me?""Stab you to the heart!"The robber laughed."Cuidadowas ever my motto," said he; "a dead man tells no tales."Grasping and compressing Ronald's throat with his left hand, he flourished aloft his right, which held his stiletto, a sharp short dagger, with a round blade like that instrument known as a butcher's steel. "Now,valiente senor, compound for death, and not for life? I may prolong your tortures, giving a hundred stabs instead of one; but your dying moment shall be easy, if the lining of your pockets is tolerable. A stab for everyduro! hah! hah!"That instinctive feeling which causes every man to struggle to the utmost to preserve life, arose powerfully in the breast of Ronald Stuart at that instant, when he saw the deadly blade of the ruthless assassin gleaming above him in the moonlight. He felt that his last moment was come, and yet he resolved not to die without another gallant struggle. Exerting every energy—straining every muscle and fibre, by one desperate effort he hurled the robber violently backwards; but before he could rise, his merciless assailant again sprung upon him with renewed ferocity, and striking blindly with his stiletto, buried it twice in the turf close by Ronald's ear. There can be little doubt that this new attack would have terminated fatally for him, had not two officers, muffled to the eyes in their cloaks ridden hastily up, upon which the robber, without attempting to strike another blow, snatched up his rifle and fled,—but not unscathed."A death-hunter! He shall die, by heavens!" exclaimed one of the strangers, snatching a pistol from his holsters and firing after Cifuentes, who was seen bounding with the speed of a greyhound over the encumbered field, and the moon shone full upon him. A sharp howl of pain followed the report of the shot."Your shot has told, my lord," said the other officer. "These rascals deserve no mercy.""The fellow is leaping along yet. I would again fire, but for the waste of powder.""He was struggling with some one here.""Your arrival has been very fortunate," said Ronald, in a voice which faltered from weariness and excitement. "I have had a protracted and desperate struggle with the ruffian, and must have perished under his hands at last, as I am weak with loss of blood, and totally incapable of defending myself.""Put this to your mouth," said the first speaker, "and take a hearty pull. 'Tis cold whisky-toddy,—a beverage not often got so near the Pyrenees.""Thanks, sir!" said Ronald, as he put the flask to his lips, and drank gratefully of the contents. "So we have gained the day.""Gloriously!" replied the other. "But where are you wounded?""On the head,—by a blow from a musquet-butt, or shaft of a pike. I received it on the heights of Puebla.""Ah, there was sharp work there, when the battle began this morning. So you belong to the fighting division—Sir Rowland's? You have wandered a long way from the heights.""I was endeavouring to rejoin my regiment," replied Ronald, staggering up, and propping himself with his sword; "I was loath to be absent while I could lift a limb. But to whom am I indebted for my safety? You are both countrymen, I believe, by your voices.""You are right," replied the officer who wounded Cifuentes. "This is Captain Ramsay, of the 18th Hussars,—Ramsay of the Dyke-neuk-heid, as we call him at home; and I am Lord Dalhousie. We are riding to join the seventh division.""I was not aware to whom I had the honour of addressing myself," said Ronald. "I shall be obliged by your lordship informing me where my own regiment now is.""The Gordon Highlanders, I presume?""Exactly, my lord,—in Stuart's, late Howard's brigade.""A brave regiment, and my heart warmed at the sight of their tartans to-day. They are a long way from this, pursuing the French along the Pampeluna road, and are probably as far as Salvatierra by this time.""Then I can never reach them to-night," said Stuart dejectedly."Here are some of the Waggon-train," said the earl. "To their care we must consign you and be off forthwith, as all the troops are pressing forward en route for the Pyrenees."As Dalhousie and his aide-de-camp rode off, the noise of wheels and cracking of whips announced the arrival of some of the Royal Waggon-train. One of the cars was advancing straight towards him, but slowly, as its course was continually impeded by the dead and wounded lying across its way. An officer of the train, with an immense plume in his cocked-hat, and wearing the rich uniform of this easy branch of the service, rode beside the waggon, into which they were putting those wounded men whose cries attracted their attention."The heights of Puebla?" said the waggon-officer, in a tone of surprise and expostulation to another who rode beside him. "Oh! it is quite impossible to detach any of my party so far.""How, sir! so far?" replied the other angrily, in the voice of Major Campbell. "And is a brave lad to bleed to death and have his bones picked by the corbies, because a loon like you is afraid to climb a hill? By the Lord! he shall not perish through the neglect of one like you, whose whole share of a battle is seeing the smoke and hearing the noise at a comfortable distance, and then coming in with these infernal rattle-traps to pick up the wounded when the danger is all over."He of the waggons was too much enraged to reply readily; and before he could speak, Ronald heard the voices of Macdonald and Evan Iverach."Come, major, don't quarrel about it. I am afraid that it will be a fruitless errand seeking Stuart among the heights. Poor fellow! I am too sure he was quite dead when we passed him this morning.""Oh, Mr. Macdonald, dinna say sae!" groaned Evan, who had been lamenting as they came along, "dinna say sae! I have had an awfu' day o' wae and anxiety upon his account. There he is—God preserve me in my senses! No, my een dinna deceive me,—there he is!" cried Evan in a voice rising into a scream nearly, while he rushed forward as Stuart's figure, moving slowly towards them, met his view. Evan, as usual, began to caper and dance, blubber and weep with joy, while Campbell and Alister warmly shook the hand of his master."Ha, Stuart, my lad! I knew you were hard to kill," said Campbell; "and so, in spite of Alister's assertions that you were gone 'to the land of the leal,' I determined to set out in search of you as soon as the regiment halted. Old Ludovick Lisle of ours would have been buried alive, once upon a time, in Egypt, but for my interference. He had been struck down by an iron mace in some brawl with a loon of a Mameluke, and I knew that he was only stunned; so I poured a glass of brandy down his throat, and brandy never failed to bring old Ludovick to, whatever was the matter."Ronald objected to entering the waggon, which was already crowded, and the bottom of it was covered with blood; so it moved off, the officer telling Campbell he should hear from him in the morning. The major replied that he should be very happy, and dismounting, gave his horse to Stuart; who, as they moved along, gave a report of his encounter with Cifuentes and interview with Lord Dalhousie."He is a brave man, and a good officer," said Campbell. "And as for Ramsay, of the Dyke-neuk-heid, he is, though a Lowlander, one of the finest fellows I ever met, and the best mixer of Athol brose and whisky-punch in the three kingdoms. But we must move forward as fast as possible. Spur up this nag, Stuart; he was a French dragoon horse this morning, but has changed masters. My poor Rosinante, on which you ran such a rig at Almarez, was shot under me as we ascended the heights. Cameron likewise had his horse killed under him; and, to make the matter worse, had another killed over him, by which he was confoundedly bruised.""But I see, major, that your left arm is in a sling.""I received a scratch from the sabre of a French sub, who assailed me before I could draw Andrea; but I knocked him down with my stick, disarmed and took him prisoner.""Well, Alister, I rejoice to see you have escaped this time; and Evan, my trusty fellow, too.""A' sound and haill, sir; but I had a narrow escape frae a sharp-shooter birkie, wha put three shot through my bonnet just before the regiment cam' rattling doon the brae to our assistance.""And how have the corps fared throughout this eventful day?""Easily indeed," replied Macdonald, "considering how our friends the 71st and the 50th have been cut up.""Where is the regiment?""Bivouacked a few miles in front of Vittoria. None of the officers are killed, but some are wounded,—Cameron by the fall of his horse, which was killed by a twelve-pound shot, and Seaton had his left arm shot through; but the moment it was dressed he rejoined, and is probably now with his 'light bobs.' At the foot of the hills we lost a Serjeant and many men by the fire of the enemy's cannon, but—""But we had our vengeance to the full," cried Campbell, brandishing his stick. "They have lost as much as was ever tint at Shirra-muir. Forgetting the crown of Spain, only think, Stuart my man,—one hundred and fifty splendid pieces of ordnance, four hundred caissons laden with Lord knows what, the plunder of all Spain, perhaps! some millions of musquet cartridges, the baggage of the army, the military chest, colours and drums innumerable, and the baton of Jourdan, which he dropped in his hurry or fright. But the military chest—by Jove! had you seen how free the 18th Hussars made with it,—every rascal of them stuffing his boots to the brim with gold Napoleons! There will be a devil of a row kicked up about it at the Horse Guards, you may be sure of that. We have captured I know not how many carriages, every one full of the ladies of Joseph's court: rare work we have had with them! Alister, with twenty men, gallantly stormed one vehicle at the point of the bayonet, and seized four terrified young ladies,—one of whom I believe is the Countess de Gazan, wife of the general of the same name.""How horrified the poor creatures were!" said Macdonald. "One train of court-carriages, in flying away at full gallop to escape Graham's division, which had intercepted their flight to Bayonne, came among us, and were, of course, compelled to halt. But they were treated with all due gallantry and honour.""Especially by Blacier's riflemen, who dragged some ladies out without ceremony, and rummaged them over like so many custom-house officers; and with their bayonets tore and ripped up the rich silk lining of the carriages, in hopes of finding concealed jewellery.""Germans are more proverbial for their greed, than for devotion to the gentler sex. But Lord Wellington has despatched the ladies away to the rear, among the prisoners taken in the battle.""A knowing chield!" said the major. "Some of these French girls are pretty enough to turn the hearts and heads of their captors. Arthur knew that, and thought them saferen routefor Belem, than in the midst of his army. By my word! 'tis a devil of a thing to hear a sweet young girl, with bright black eyes, cherry lips, &c. &c., imploring you in most dulcet French to spare her life, and all that. What the deuce! Some of these fair creatures to-day seemed to think they had got among an army of ghoules or ogres, instead of honest British soldiers.""I forgive their terror," answered Ronald. "Only imagine what would be the feelings of British ladies, falling as these did into the hands of a foreign army, flushed and fierce with the excitement of such a battle, the blood and glory of such a victory!"On entering the town of Vittoria, they found it filled with French and British wounded; and the numbers were increasing, as the waggons went to and fro between the field and town, which soon became converted into an hospital. Cries, groans, and thrilling exclamations of suffering rang from every house; and men were lying in ranks below the piazzas of the market-place, waiting till their wounds could be looked to; and in every street lay scores of weary and maimed soldiers, who, unable to proceed further, had sunk down bleeding and expiring, helpless as babes, without a hand to close their eyes.Stuart's wound was of too little importance to procure immediate attendance, all the surgeons being hard at work, with their shirt sleeves turned up, hewing off legs and arms mercilessly, as was their will and pleasure in those days. On with the tourniquet, and off with the limb, was the mode then; any attempt to reduce a fracture being considered a waste of time, and a style of cure troublesome alike to patient and physician. After searching about for some time to find a son of Esculapius unemployed, but without success, they adjourned to a café immediately within the Santa Clara gate.The large drinking-room was crowded with officers, some of whom had got their scars dressed, and, in defiance of the orders ofel medico, were quaffing horn after horn of the country wine, in honour of the victory. Seaton, with his arm slung, was thus employed in one corner with an officer of the 50th, whose head was wrapped in a bloody handkerchief. Many others were in the same trim; and the conversation consisted of loud and boisterous observations and criticisms on this and that movement—the advance of one division, the retreat of another—promotion, brevet, thanks of parliament, a medal,—and so on; and all were lavish in their animadversions on the 18th Hussars, for making so free with the military chest. Their observations were often mingled with loud and reckless military merriment, and an occasional hearty malediction on some wound which would not cease bleeding, or an exclamation of pain at the twinges it gave. Many Spanish officers were sitting over chess-tables, absorbed in their favourite national game, forgetting altogether, in the interest which it excited, the battle so recently gained, and which was of so much importance to the liberties of their country. But it has been truly remarked by some one, that, give the Spaniard his cigar, his sun-shine, hisquerido, and amusements, and it is all one to him whether Spain is ruled by a Solon or a Caligula.In another corner of the drinking-room, a Spanish colonel was sitting coolly with a napkin and brass bason under his chin, undergoing the operation of being shaved by the senior surgeon of his regiment, as it is, or was, the duty of that officer to take off the colonel's beard every morning, or whenever required. So much for the dignity of the medical profession in Spain.Enveloped in a cloud of tobacco-smoke, which left no part of him visible but his twinkling grey eyes and red snub nose, Captain Blacier occupied the opposite corner, busy in preparing a luxurious German dish, the ingredients for which he produced from the havresack of glazed canvas which he carried with his blanket on his back. A large tin trencher stood before him, and into it he was shredding a cabbage, which he had picked up when skirmishing in the neighbourhood of Salvatierra the preceding day; and after sprinkling over it pepper, salt, vinegar, and garlic, he began to eat with infinite relish.After getting his wound dressed by the Spanish medico, and after drinking a few horns ofagua y vino, Ronald procured a light forage-cap in place of his heavy plumed bonnet, and accompanied by Seaton and those who found him on the field, he set out for the regiment, which, with Hill's whole division, lay bivouacked six miles in front of Vittoria, where, after pursuing the French till past midnight, they had halted.On being accommodated with a horse, Ronald was enabled to accompany the troops, which moved next day to drive the enemy across the Pyrenees. Acting with his usual promptitude, Wellington pushed onward with the third, fourth, and light divisions to Pampeluna, whence the ex-king Joseph, with the greater part of his shattered host, retired into France by the famous pass of Roncesvalles; while the rest, under the command of General Gazan, retired by the vale of El Bastan.Lord Wellington surrounded Pampeluna, which was yet held by a French garrison; and Graham, who with the left wing of the allies had pursued the retreating enemy on the great road for France, came up with a corps near Tolosa, which he attacked and defeated, and driving them across the Bidassoa, boldly invested the strong fortress of San Sebastian, from the towers of which yet waved the tri-colour and the standard of King Joseph.CHAPTER VII.AN OUT-PICQUET ADVENTURE."Far, far away, in a strange country,The soldier watch is keeping,Beneath some tower at midnight hour,When all besides are sleeping."Scots Song.To prevent the French from possessing themselves of the Maya heights, Wellington directed the Earl of Dalhousie, with his division, to threaten them by moving on San Estevan; while Sir Rowland Hill, with the first and three others of his brigades, made a similar demonstration, by marching through the wild and romantic pass of Lanz.Along the whole line of march from Vittoria to the Pyrenees, a distance of about one hundred miles, the roads were strewed with dead or abandoned horses, broken waggons, dilapidated carriages, military caissons, and clothing of every kind; uniforms of officers, rich dresses, laces, veils, and gloves of ladies, which were torn forth from mails and imperials by the rude hands of guerillas and caçadores, and scattered about everywhere; thousands of French commissariat returns, bundles of bank-notes, and packets of letters, written to many who then lay cold beneath the turf at Vittoria, were scattered over the ground by which the French had retired. Many poor stragglers, disabled by wounds or starvation, fell into the hands of the conquerors, and with others many ladies of Joseph's court, who on escaping, when the carriages were taken by Graham's division, had attempted to make their way to the Pyrenees by passing through wild and unfrequented places. Many of these unfortunate creatures fell into the power of the Spaniards, and were treated in a manner too barbarous to relate; and others were seen by the gentler British, fainting, expiring, or dead by the way-side, bare-footed, almost naked, and reduced to the most pitiable condition. All who were found alive were sent under an escort to the rear, to be placed among the other prisoners.The great chain of the Pyrenees was now before the victors, and on the 3rd of July, Hill, with his four brigades, began to ascend the heights. After a harassing march through that deep gorge among the mountains which takes its name from the town of Lanz, they came in view of the out-picquets of General Gazan's corps, and arrangements were made to drive them in forthwith. Led by Fassifern, the first brigade moved through the most solitary passes of the mountains by a village named Almandos, and took up a position on the left of Gazan's out-posts, upon which Sir Rowland gave orders to attack them in front. On finding that Cameron had turned their flank so effectually, they retired, firing by the way, and reached their main body at Barreta, where a sharp skirmish took place, in which the Condé d'Amarante's Portuguese suffered considerably.Next day, Gazan retired precipitately through Elizondo followed by the Portuguese, who were eager to revenge the slaughter of their comrades in the preceding day's skirmish, and the troops resumed their march towards the heights of Maya."Cheerily now, Highlandmen!" cried Campbell, flourishing his cudgel, as he spurred his horse past the heavily accoutred sections, who were toiling up the mountains; "hold cheerily on, my lads! Set a stout heart to a stey brae,—ye mind the old saying at home: ye'll soon see the high road to Britain, the way we must all go, ere we see the curl of our ain peat-reek."A few hours' march brought them to the summits of the Pyrenees, and afar off was seen the ocean, which they had not beheld for so long. It was the way to their homes, and from a simultaneous feeling, which inspired every man, three hearty cheers awoke the echoes of the mountains; caps and bonnets were tossed into the air,—the bands struck up "Rule Britannia," and the pipers blew till their faces grew purple and black. The brigades halted for a few minutes, and a dead silence succeeded the first outbreak of their joy. Every man's breast seemed swelling with emotions, which he found it impossible to communicate; but he read in the faces of his comrades the same joy which quickened the pulses of his own heart. The sea,—the same deep-heaving sea which swept around the rocks and shores of their own country, now spread its broad bosom before them; and long and wistfully they gazed on the white sails of the solitary British cruisers, which here and there dotted the dark-blue waters of the Bay of Biscay. The green ridges of the Lower Pyrenees, the fertile plains and wooded vales of France, lay spread at their feet like a brightly-tinted map. Saint Jean de Luz, the famous and opulent Bayonne, and a thousand minor towns and villages were seen from those lofty summits, now trod by British soldiers for the first time. Behind them lay sunny España, through which they had toiled and fought their way, and where many a comrade had found his grave,—but no man looked to the rear. Every eye was turned to the north,—on France, which lay below them. But stern and bloody work was awaiting them, and many a one whose heart then bounded with thoughts of his native home, and with a thousand inexpressible hopes, wishes, and fond anticipations, was doomed to find his last resting-place on these very heights of Maya.That night the troops bivouacked on the mountain side, a league in front of Elizondo. As it was generally his luck after any march which had been particularly long and tiresome, Ronald Stuart had command of an advanced picquet, forming one of the chain thrown out in the direction of Gazan's division, which had taken up a position lower down the mountains with the determination to dispute every inch of ground that led tola belle France,—a resolution which the Marquess of Wellington determined to put to the test next day. Stuart's orders were to visit his sentries every hour throughout the night, to keep them on the alert; a duty which proved very harassing after so long a march, as it was almost impossible to sleep in the short intervals between the rounds. However, fretting would not have bettered the affair, and rolling himself up in his cloak, he resolved to make himself as comfortable as he possibly could. A huge fire lighted by the soldiers lessened the cold, and counteracted the effects of a heavy wetting dew, which falls amid these mountains at almost every season.After his ration of beef had been broiled on the embers, eaten without salt off the end of a ramrod, and washed down with a canteen-full of that rich cider, for the production of which the district around Elizondo is so famous, after listening to the merry bells of the town which were ringing in honour of the British, and after watching until he grew weary the varying effects of light and shade, as the red blaze of a dozen picquet-fires glared on the beetling crags, deep seams and gorges, or green sides of the hills, he found it almost impossible to resist the invasion of sleep. Even the miniature of his dark-haired Alice failed to enliven him, and he envied the privates of his party, who, having neither command nor responsibility, slept soundly by the fire, with their knapsacks beneath their heads and their arms piled beside them. On consulting his watch to see how the time went, he found that it was midnight, and that an hour had elapsed since his last visit. As it was necessary to be attended by some one, he awoke Evan,[*] and desiring him to take his arms, moved towards his sentinels, whom he had considerable trouble in discovering, as the night was intensely dark. All was right, every soldier was on the alert, and Ronald was returning with his follower through the winding and rocky path towards the fire, which served as a beacon to guide them to their post, and which they beheld glimmering through the gloom some hundred yards off, when a piercing cry rang through the still air, at a short distance from the place where they were.[*] An officer's servant is always on duty with his master."Hey, sir!" exclaimed Evan, beginning to unbuckle his pouch; "what can that be, in sic a wild place as this?""A woman's voice, I think.""It cam frae the hill on the left o' the road,—I'm sure o't. Hech! it was an unco' cry.""Follow me," said his master, beginning quickly to ascend the hill."Hech, sir! dinna venture up the bank till we hear something mair," said Evan cautiously, following promptly nevertheless. "My certie! we kenna what folk may bide amang the holmes and howes hereabout. At hame I have heard tell o' sic cries ringing at this time, between the nicht and morning, and they were ay for ill, and never for gude. Sae be advised, sir, and wait awee.""Evan!" said Stuart angrily, "are you afraid of men?""Ye ken I am no, sir!" replied the Highlandman sharply. "I would scorn to turn heel on sax o' the best that ever trod on heather. Mair would, may be, be venturesome.""Of bogles, then,—or spunkies, or what?" The soldier was silent."Campaigning might have taught you to laugh at such ideas, Evan.""Gang on, sir," replied the other sturdily; "if auld Mahoud, wi' horns, hoof, and blazin' een sat on the brae head, I'll follow ye; but auld Dugald the cornel's man tauld me an unco' story ca'd thelham-dearg, that gars me scunner at my ain shadow after nicht-fa'." Again the cry rang loud and shrilly, and many others followed in succession."There is no mistake now," cried Ronald, rushing up the hill towards a light, which was seen twinkling through the darkness. "It is the voice of a woman,—and she cries for help." Scrambling forward, among rocks and stunted trees, a few moments brought them in front of a hut of the rudest and humblest construction. The light shone through the open hole which served for a window, and from this structure the cries, which had now died away, had certainly proceeded. Before he entered, Ronald reconnoitred the interior through the loop-hole. Two shepherds, arrayed in the coarse clothing made of the undyed wool of the mountain sheep, sat smoking cigars and drinking at a rough wooden table, while they coolly surveyed a very singular scene. A young and very handsome woman, a lady evidently by her form and air, although her dress was torn and soiled, her white silk bonnet hanging in fritters, her hair dishevelled, and her feet almost bare, struggling wildly with, and exerting every energy to oppose, the brutality of—whom? Cifuentes! the diabolical Narvaez Cifuentes, who, like a bird of ill omen, seemed doomed to cross the path of Ronald Stuart wherever he went,—and even there, on the borders of France. He appeared the same ferocious dog as ever, with his matted hair and scrub-beard; but his aspect was now rendered hideous by a large scar on the cheek and chin, caused probably by the random shot which Lord Dalhousie had bestowed upon him at Vittoria. His musquet, sabre, and pistols lay upon the table. His stiletto he held to the white neck of the sinking girl, and swore by every saint in the calendar that he would plunge it in her heart, if she did not cease her cries. Overcome with terror and exhaustion, she sunk upon her knees before him, when Evan, applying his foot to the door, dashed it in, and Stuart, rushing forward, grasped Narvaez by the throat, hurled him to the earth before, in his own defence, he could strike a blow with his weapon, which Evan wrested adroitly from his hand, and saying, with a grin, that "it wad mak' a brave skene-dhu for his faither the piper," stuck it into his right garter. Fiercely did Cifuentes struggle with his athletic assailant, who, although he planted a foot on his throat, delayed, with a mistaken humanity, to bury his claymore in his heart,—a display of mercy Ronald had reason afterwards to repent most bitterly.The two herds started to their feet on beholding this unexpected conflict, and the lady, in the extremity of her terror, flung her arms around Stuart, and, grasping him convulsively, completely impeded his motions. Of this circumstance his adversary did not fail to take the utmost advantage. After several fruitless efforts, he escaped from Ronald's powerful grasp, and, eluding the bayonet of Evan, who charged him breast-high, rushed from the cottage, and disappeared in the darkness with the speed of a hare. Ronald's fury was now turned against the villanous shepherds, whom, in the extremity of his anger, he threatened to put to death; upon which they quitted their dwelling, and made a hasty retreat. While Evan stood sentinel at the door, his master endeavoured to calm and pacify the young lady, whom he found to be French—very pretty, and very attractive. No sooner had her terror subsided, than she returned him thanks and praises with such volubility in French and English, that Ronald became almost abashed, and with some reserve inquired her name?"The Baroness de Clappourknuis.""Oh, indeed! And how alone in such a place as this?""Ah! monsieur, you need scarcely ask. When the royal carriages were captured, on the road to Bayonne, I was one of the few who effected an escape from them. Oh, pity me!monsieur officier, and do not deliver me up to be sent a prisoner to England.""Madame, what would you have me to do?""Oh, any thing you please,—that is, monsieur, conceal me but for a day or so. General Gazan's troops are not far off, and my husband the baron is with them. I may find means to rejoin him safely. I am sure you will not treat me cruelly—your look is so gentle. But we Frenchwomen have quite a terrible idea of you British soldiers, and my fears have carried me thus far from the fatal plains of Vittoria. Ah! good sir, you may imagine, but I can never describe the terrors, the miseries, the horror I have undergone while wandering so great a distance, alone and unprotected, among these barbarous Spaniards. And,O mon Dieu!when I had almost gained the shelter of Gazan's lines, I fell into the power of that fearful creature, from whose savage treatment you have so bravely rescued me.""Where did you meet with him, madame?""Wandering in the pass of Lanz,—for I was compelled to seek the most unfrequented paths. Clad in the habit of some of thereligieuxof this country, he met me. I had nothing to fear from one who wore the garb of peace. I confided in him: he offered to become my guide, and led me hither. You know the rest. Ah, monsieur! complete your kindness, I beseech you, and see me in safety to the French outposts!""What you ask of me, madame, I cannot perform, and I say so with regret. 'Tis three miles from this to the enemy's position. I cannot escort you myself, being on a particular duty, and I have not the means of sending you thither; yet, believe me, for the sake of poor D'Estouville's first love I would do much."This was said in a tone of feeling, slightly mingled with reproach, and the colour of the lady came and went while she gazed on Ronald with a look of considerable surprise."Monsieur," said she, after a pause, "did you know Major d'Estouville?""Intimately, although a Frenchman and an enemy. I beheld him die.""At Merida?" Her lip quivered."Yes, madame.""Poor Victor!" said the baroness thoughtfully."The last words he uttered were your name,—Diane de Montmichel. He expired in great agony, on a bed of straw, stretched on the cold pavement of an ancient chapel.""Merci! Ah, monsieur! do not, do not tell me any more of this!" said she, covering her face with her hands,—which, I may observe, were very small and beautifully formed,—and beginning to weep and sob. "I dare not think of Victor now,—now when the wedded wife of another! To do so would be a sin, even although he is dead.""D'Estouville told me his story. He loved you very truly, madame.""I know that. You will certainly think me very cruel in deserting him, but Heaven knows I did not do so wilfully; I was not entirely to blame. At Lillebonne we understood that he had been killed; and long I wept and sorrowed for him, and protested that, until death, I would remain unwedded for his sake. Monsieur le Baron made proposals for my hand, and it was given him by my parent even before my consent was obtained. Terror, sorrow, and domestic persecution did the rest, and I became the bride of the new suitor, who indeed loves me very dearly, and I have every reason to be grateful to him. A coronet is a gay and attractive thing; yet think not, monsieur, that I have forgotten poor Victor, though I struggle with my heart to teach it the duty it owes the baron. One cannot have two loves for one heart," she added, sobbing and blushing."Well, madame," said Stuart, anxious to end her embarrassment, "some arrangement must be made. First, let us leave this place.""Eh bien!" said the lady joyfully; and beginning to bustle about, she put her dilapidated dress in some order. "But," added she, shrugging her shoulders, "for where, monsieur?""With your permission, madame, to my picquet at the foot of the hill, in the first place," replied Stuart, consulting his watch. "I have been absent nearly an hour. Hah! there will be the devil to pay should I be missed.""Ay will there, sir," said Evan, who had leaned his chin upon the muzzle of his piece, and 'glowered' with considerable surprise during the sudden and animated conversation which his master had carried on so glibly with the strange lady. "I hae been keepin' my lug to the wind, to hearken if ony soonds cam up the brae, but there has been naething asteer as yet. Ye hae nae been missed; but, gude save us, sir, let's awa before waur comes o't! Fassifern 'the chief' himsel's on duty; and whan he gangs the round, a bonnie kick up there will be gin ye're no at your post; and ye ken the cornel is waur than the deil to warsle wi'." Stuart knew that this was good and sound advice, however homely its delivery; and he prepared to rejoin his picquet, before Cameron, who was field-officer on duty, might visit it.By pinning up here and there, tucking up one thing and letting out another, the lady wrought away rapidly with her neat and nimble little hands, working as only a Frenchwoman could have done, and in three minutes, her travel-stained and disordered attire was nicely and very passably arranged. Ronald offered his assistance, but the lady dispensed with it, thanking him with a smile, and saying he "could not be a very adroitfemme de chambre." The glossy locks were smoothly placed over her white forehead, and the crushed bonnet had almost resumed its true Parisian shape. Its draggled feathers were cast aside, but the rich white veil she disposed gracefully over the front; and, looking at Stuart with a glance of mingled archness, coquetry, and timidity, observed that she was "attired somewhat moreà la mode," and took his proffered arm."Ah, monsieur!" said she, "once more I intreat you, do not deliver me up as a prisoner to be sent to England,—that horrid place!""Not if I can help it,—I pledge you my word of honour. In transferring you to the French lines, I incur considerable risk; but as the distance is so short, I will see if it can possibly be done before day breaks."He threw his ample cloak around her, and giving strict injunctions to Evan not to acquaint his comrades who the lady was, began to descend the hill as quickly as the trembling steps of the latter would permit along such a dark and rugged path. Before leaving the hut, Evan took care to break and destroy all the offensive weapons it contained, saying as he did so, "that fules and bairns shuldna hae chappin' sticks." He proposed to set the hut in a "bleeze," to light their way down the hill, but his master at once objected. The darkness renewed the terrors of the young lady."Is the way long, monsieur?" asked she in a faltering tone."O no,—quite near. You see the picquet-fire yonder. Ah, madame! how fortunate I am in having come so opportunely to your rescue.""Oh! I shall never forget you in my prayers,—never, monsieur.""But why are you trembling so much? Surely you are not afraid of me?""O no! your behaviour is too cavalier-like and gentle for that; and we have become quite like very old friends in half-an-hour's time.""Do you fear the darkness, then?""Mon dieu! Ah! the darkness is nothing new to me. Alas!" replied she, shrugging her shoulders, "since the field of Vittoria I have passed every night in dark and lonely places; and I wonder now how one so timid, and so delicately nurtured has not sunk under all the fears and privations I have undergone for some days and nights past." The lady started. At that moment the voice of a sentinel was heard to give the usual challenge."Who comes, there?""Rounds!" answered the bold voice of Fassifern, and the tramp of his horse's hoofs rang on the roadway between the mountains."Stand, rounds!" replied the sentry, porting his musquet, and so on; with the usual ceremony, the parole and countersign were given and received."Excuse me, madame, but for a minute," said Stuart. "I am just in time; an instant later, and I should have been missed." Leaving the side of the trembling lady he bustled about, and got his picquet under arms.On the departure of Fassifern, whose movements the baroness had watched with no ordinary feelings of caution and fear, Evan was despatched for Macdonald, whom he found enjoying himself with some other officers at a wine-house in Elizondo. He came promptly enough, and was not a little surprised when Ronald requested as a favour, that he would escort a young lady to within sight of the French lines, explaining at the same time, in as few words as possible, her story and the nature of her situation.Alister at once accepted the honour of being her convoy. "But," said he, looking into the gloom which surrounded them, "the route is confoundedly dreary across the mountains to the rock of Maya,—Gazan's post.""I am perfectly aware of it," replied Stuart, with an air of pique. "'Tis impossible the baroness can go alone, and gallantry requires us to set Wellington's orders at defiance for once, and not deliver her up. I would have escorted her myself, but cannot leave my picquet.""Monsieur," said the baroness, "I am indeed sorry to trouble you; but surely you do not complain of the duty—""Oh, no! impossible, madame," exclaimed Alister, the blood mounting to his handsome features at the idea, while, gracefully raising his bonnet, he observed her fair face by the red light of the fire. "But will you entrust yourself to the guidance of one who is entirely a stranger, through a road so dark and dangerous?""I have no alternative, alas!" said she, bending her bright eyes into the gloom, as if she strove to pierce the depths beyond. She shuddered. "'Tis very dark, indeed, messieurs. I have no alternative but to go, or to remain and be sent a captive to Britain. Monsieur, I will go with you. I will depend on the untarnished honour of a British officer, that I shall be conveyed in safety to Gazan's sentinels at the rock of Maya.""Madame, you do me an honour never to be forgotten," answered Macdonald, with a bow profound enough for any "puffing señor" of Old Castile, while the lady took his arm."Lend me your dirk, Stuart. I left mine at the winecaza," said Alister, adjusting his belt and putting his basket-hilt free of plaid, sash, tassels, &c. "It is as well to be prepared for any sudden attack, and the baroness must be my warrant that I am not made a prisoner of by some of Gazan's scouts or sharp-shooters. So then, good-by, Stuart; I will come brattling up the brae in an hour or so."The lady kissed her hand to Stuart and departed with Macdonald, feeling a confidence and assurance of safety which probably no British lady would have felt, if entrusted to the charge of a foreigner under the same peculiar circumstances."And this is Diane de Montmichel, the false love of poor Victor d'Estouville," thought Ronald, as her light figure disappeared in the darkness. "Well, I believe, if all the tales his friend De Mesmai told me were true, one cannot look for much faith in French women!"For Macdonald's return he waited with considerable anxiety, which increased when the time by which he expected him passed away without his appearing, and day began to dawn on the Maya heights. He could not help dreading that Alister had not been wary enough, and had been captured by the French advanced sentinels. If so, the escape of the baroness would come to light, and he feared the Marquess of Wellington would make a deuced unpleasant row about it. He also remembered Narvaez Cifuentes, whom for some time he had forgotten, and supposed that his friend might have fatally encountered this savage bandit and some of his companions.The morning had now dawned, but the valleys between Elizondo and the rock of Maya, and even the summits of the Lower Pyrenees, were still almost involved in darkness. Shaking the dew from their booming wings, the eagles were soaring through the blue sky from their eyries among the cliffs, and the morning breeze, as it swept along the mountain sides, bore with it the delightful perfume of the aromatic plants and little shrubs which flourish so plentifully in all waste places throughout Spain. From the dying embers of the picquet-fire a puff of smoke curled now and then on the pure air, but scarcely a sound woke the echoes of the place, save the proud and steady tread of the sentries as they strode to and fro on their posts.Beyond the advanced chain of the latter, Ronald wandered far in search of Macdonald, and to await his return seated himself upon a fragment of rock, and watched attentively the long valley which lay between him and the Lower or French Pyrenees, varying this employment, by holloaing to the eagles as he used to do at home, or by hurling stones at the glossy black ravens as they screamed aloud, flapped their wings, and from the rocks of the surrounding wilderness stared at him as an intruder upon their solitude. The voice of some one singing a Gaelic song,—"Cha teid mis a chaoidh,"[*]caused him to spring to his feet.
[*] Death-hunters,—a name given by soldiers to those who follow armies to strip the dead after a battle.
Scarcely were they gone when another wretch appeared, bent on the same disgraceful errand. He was either a robber or guerilla, and carried on the hollow of his left arm a musquet, from which dangled a long leather sling. A pewter crucifix glittered on the band of his broad-leaved hat, and the polished brass hilts of the double daggers and pistols in his sash gleamed in the light of the moon, which at that moment shone forth with peculiar brilliancy. A new pair of large epaulets, which Stuart had put on a few days before, attracted this worthy's attention, and he came straight towards the wearer to possess himself of them.
What were the feelings of the young Highlander to behold in the robber the abhorred Narvaez Cifuentes, the destroyer of the noble and beautiful Catalina! An electric shock seemed to pass over every fibre, and again his heart beat violently. He grasped tighter the thistle-hilt of his short weapon, and watched with an eagle eye the motions of the robber. Narvaez knew him the moment their eyes met, and uttering a short but emphatic oath, he sprung forward and leaped upon Ronald with his whole weight, and pressing a knee upon each arm, perfectly incapacitated him from making any defence, especially in his weak and wounded state.
"How now, my gaysenor soldado!" said Narvaez with a chuckling laugh, after they had glared at each other in silence for a few seconds. "Methinks we have met at last, under circumstances somewhat disadvantageous to your safety."
Ronald's only reply was a frantic attempt to free himself from the iron grasp of the other.
"Be still,—carajo!" said the ruffian as he unsheathed a poniard; "be still, or I may mercifully give a deep stroke at once, without having the little conversation I wish to enjoy with you, before you die."
"Dog of a robber!—dog of a Spaniard!" gasped Ronald in a hoarse accent. "Free but my right hand and, weak and exhausted as I am, I will meet you—"
"Ho,Demonios!a rare request!Par Diez!no, no,mi amigo. I will have these bright epaulets, (which I beg you will not spoil by struggling so,) and I will have this golden cross and other things, without either the risk or trouble of trying points with you. Hah! have you forgotten the night when we first met at Albuquerque? By our Lady of Majorga, you shall this night know that I have not! We have many odd scores to pay off, and they may as well be settled here on the field of Vittoria, as elsewhere. Besides, Senor Valour, when your corpse is found, you will be mentioned among the killed in theGaceta de la Regencia. Hah! hah!"
"Wretch! you forget that this day my blood has been shed for Spain and Ferdinand VII.!"
"You have been paid for that, I suppose," replied the fellow, accompanying his observation, which might have suited a British radical, with an insultng laugh, while Stuart, panted with rage.
"Now, then,—what would you do were you released by me?"
"Stab you to the heart!"
The robber laughed.
"Cuidadowas ever my motto," said he; "a dead man tells no tales."
Grasping and compressing Ronald's throat with his left hand, he flourished aloft his right, which held his stiletto, a sharp short dagger, with a round blade like that instrument known as a butcher's steel. "Now,valiente senor, compound for death, and not for life? I may prolong your tortures, giving a hundred stabs instead of one; but your dying moment shall be easy, if the lining of your pockets is tolerable. A stab for everyduro! hah! hah!"
That instinctive feeling which causes every man to struggle to the utmost to preserve life, arose powerfully in the breast of Ronald Stuart at that instant, when he saw the deadly blade of the ruthless assassin gleaming above him in the moonlight. He felt that his last moment was come, and yet he resolved not to die without another gallant struggle. Exerting every energy—straining every muscle and fibre, by one desperate effort he hurled the robber violently backwards; but before he could rise, his merciless assailant again sprung upon him with renewed ferocity, and striking blindly with his stiletto, buried it twice in the turf close by Ronald's ear. There can be little doubt that this new attack would have terminated fatally for him, had not two officers, muffled to the eyes in their cloaks ridden hastily up, upon which the robber, without attempting to strike another blow, snatched up his rifle and fled,—but not unscathed.
"A death-hunter! He shall die, by heavens!" exclaimed one of the strangers, snatching a pistol from his holsters and firing after Cifuentes, who was seen bounding with the speed of a greyhound over the encumbered field, and the moon shone full upon him. A sharp howl of pain followed the report of the shot.
"Your shot has told, my lord," said the other officer. "These rascals deserve no mercy."
"The fellow is leaping along yet. I would again fire, but for the waste of powder."
"He was struggling with some one here."
"Your arrival has been very fortunate," said Ronald, in a voice which faltered from weariness and excitement. "I have had a protracted and desperate struggle with the ruffian, and must have perished under his hands at last, as I am weak with loss of blood, and totally incapable of defending myself."
"Put this to your mouth," said the first speaker, "and take a hearty pull. 'Tis cold whisky-toddy,—a beverage not often got so near the Pyrenees."
"Thanks, sir!" said Ronald, as he put the flask to his lips, and drank gratefully of the contents. "So we have gained the day."
"Gloriously!" replied the other. "But where are you wounded?"
"On the head,—by a blow from a musquet-butt, or shaft of a pike. I received it on the heights of Puebla."
"Ah, there was sharp work there, when the battle began this morning. So you belong to the fighting division—Sir Rowland's? You have wandered a long way from the heights."
"I was endeavouring to rejoin my regiment," replied Ronald, staggering up, and propping himself with his sword; "I was loath to be absent while I could lift a limb. But to whom am I indebted for my safety? You are both countrymen, I believe, by your voices."
"You are right," replied the officer who wounded Cifuentes. "This is Captain Ramsay, of the 18th Hussars,—Ramsay of the Dyke-neuk-heid, as we call him at home; and I am Lord Dalhousie. We are riding to join the seventh division."
"I was not aware to whom I had the honour of addressing myself," said Ronald. "I shall be obliged by your lordship informing me where my own regiment now is."
"The Gordon Highlanders, I presume?"
"Exactly, my lord,—in Stuart's, late Howard's brigade."
"A brave regiment, and my heart warmed at the sight of their tartans to-day. They are a long way from this, pursuing the French along the Pampeluna road, and are probably as far as Salvatierra by this time."
"Then I can never reach them to-night," said Stuart dejectedly.
"Here are some of the Waggon-train," said the earl. "To their care we must consign you and be off forthwith, as all the troops are pressing forward en route for the Pyrenees."
As Dalhousie and his aide-de-camp rode off, the noise of wheels and cracking of whips announced the arrival of some of the Royal Waggon-train. One of the cars was advancing straight towards him, but slowly, as its course was continually impeded by the dead and wounded lying across its way. An officer of the train, with an immense plume in his cocked-hat, and wearing the rich uniform of this easy branch of the service, rode beside the waggon, into which they were putting those wounded men whose cries attracted their attention.
"The heights of Puebla?" said the waggon-officer, in a tone of surprise and expostulation to another who rode beside him. "Oh! it is quite impossible to detach any of my party so far."
"How, sir! so far?" replied the other angrily, in the voice of Major Campbell. "And is a brave lad to bleed to death and have his bones picked by the corbies, because a loon like you is afraid to climb a hill? By the Lord! he shall not perish through the neglect of one like you, whose whole share of a battle is seeing the smoke and hearing the noise at a comfortable distance, and then coming in with these infernal rattle-traps to pick up the wounded when the danger is all over."
He of the waggons was too much enraged to reply readily; and before he could speak, Ronald heard the voices of Macdonald and Evan Iverach.
"Come, major, don't quarrel about it. I am afraid that it will be a fruitless errand seeking Stuart among the heights. Poor fellow! I am too sure he was quite dead when we passed him this morning."
"Oh, Mr. Macdonald, dinna say sae!" groaned Evan, who had been lamenting as they came along, "dinna say sae! I have had an awfu' day o' wae and anxiety upon his account. There he is—God preserve me in my senses! No, my een dinna deceive me,—there he is!" cried Evan in a voice rising into a scream nearly, while he rushed forward as Stuart's figure, moving slowly towards them, met his view. Evan, as usual, began to caper and dance, blubber and weep with joy, while Campbell and Alister warmly shook the hand of his master.
"Ha, Stuart, my lad! I knew you were hard to kill," said Campbell; "and so, in spite of Alister's assertions that you were gone 'to the land of the leal,' I determined to set out in search of you as soon as the regiment halted. Old Ludovick Lisle of ours would have been buried alive, once upon a time, in Egypt, but for my interference. He had been struck down by an iron mace in some brawl with a loon of a Mameluke, and I knew that he was only stunned; so I poured a glass of brandy down his throat, and brandy never failed to bring old Ludovick to, whatever was the matter."
Ronald objected to entering the waggon, which was already crowded, and the bottom of it was covered with blood; so it moved off, the officer telling Campbell he should hear from him in the morning. The major replied that he should be very happy, and dismounting, gave his horse to Stuart; who, as they moved along, gave a report of his encounter with Cifuentes and interview with Lord Dalhousie.
"He is a brave man, and a good officer," said Campbell. "And as for Ramsay, of the Dyke-neuk-heid, he is, though a Lowlander, one of the finest fellows I ever met, and the best mixer of Athol brose and whisky-punch in the three kingdoms. But we must move forward as fast as possible. Spur up this nag, Stuart; he was a French dragoon horse this morning, but has changed masters. My poor Rosinante, on which you ran such a rig at Almarez, was shot under me as we ascended the heights. Cameron likewise had his horse killed under him; and, to make the matter worse, had another killed over him, by which he was confoundedly bruised."
"But I see, major, that your left arm is in a sling."
"I received a scratch from the sabre of a French sub, who assailed me before I could draw Andrea; but I knocked him down with my stick, disarmed and took him prisoner."
"Well, Alister, I rejoice to see you have escaped this time; and Evan, my trusty fellow, too."
"A' sound and haill, sir; but I had a narrow escape frae a sharp-shooter birkie, wha put three shot through my bonnet just before the regiment cam' rattling doon the brae to our assistance."
"And how have the corps fared throughout this eventful day?"
"Easily indeed," replied Macdonald, "considering how our friends the 71st and the 50th have been cut up."
"Where is the regiment?"
"Bivouacked a few miles in front of Vittoria. None of the officers are killed, but some are wounded,—Cameron by the fall of his horse, which was killed by a twelve-pound shot, and Seaton had his left arm shot through; but the moment it was dressed he rejoined, and is probably now with his 'light bobs.' At the foot of the hills we lost a Serjeant and many men by the fire of the enemy's cannon, but—"
"But we had our vengeance to the full," cried Campbell, brandishing his stick. "They have lost as much as was ever tint at Shirra-muir. Forgetting the crown of Spain, only think, Stuart my man,—one hundred and fifty splendid pieces of ordnance, four hundred caissons laden with Lord knows what, the plunder of all Spain, perhaps! some millions of musquet cartridges, the baggage of the army, the military chest, colours and drums innumerable, and the baton of Jourdan, which he dropped in his hurry or fright. But the military chest—by Jove! had you seen how free the 18th Hussars made with it,—every rascal of them stuffing his boots to the brim with gold Napoleons! There will be a devil of a row kicked up about it at the Horse Guards, you may be sure of that. We have captured I know not how many carriages, every one full of the ladies of Joseph's court: rare work we have had with them! Alister, with twenty men, gallantly stormed one vehicle at the point of the bayonet, and seized four terrified young ladies,—one of whom I believe is the Countess de Gazan, wife of the general of the same name."
"How horrified the poor creatures were!" said Macdonald. "One train of court-carriages, in flying away at full gallop to escape Graham's division, which had intercepted their flight to Bayonne, came among us, and were, of course, compelled to halt. But they were treated with all due gallantry and honour."
"Especially by Blacier's riflemen, who dragged some ladies out without ceremony, and rummaged them over like so many custom-house officers; and with their bayonets tore and ripped up the rich silk lining of the carriages, in hopes of finding concealed jewellery."
"Germans are more proverbial for their greed, than for devotion to the gentler sex. But Lord Wellington has despatched the ladies away to the rear, among the prisoners taken in the battle."
"A knowing chield!" said the major. "Some of these French girls are pretty enough to turn the hearts and heads of their captors. Arthur knew that, and thought them saferen routefor Belem, than in the midst of his army. By my word! 'tis a devil of a thing to hear a sweet young girl, with bright black eyes, cherry lips, &c. &c., imploring you in most dulcet French to spare her life, and all that. What the deuce! Some of these fair creatures to-day seemed to think they had got among an army of ghoules or ogres, instead of honest British soldiers."
"I forgive their terror," answered Ronald. "Only imagine what would be the feelings of British ladies, falling as these did into the hands of a foreign army, flushed and fierce with the excitement of such a battle, the blood and glory of such a victory!"
On entering the town of Vittoria, they found it filled with French and British wounded; and the numbers were increasing, as the waggons went to and fro between the field and town, which soon became converted into an hospital. Cries, groans, and thrilling exclamations of suffering rang from every house; and men were lying in ranks below the piazzas of the market-place, waiting till their wounds could be looked to; and in every street lay scores of weary and maimed soldiers, who, unable to proceed further, had sunk down bleeding and expiring, helpless as babes, without a hand to close their eyes.
Stuart's wound was of too little importance to procure immediate attendance, all the surgeons being hard at work, with their shirt sleeves turned up, hewing off legs and arms mercilessly, as was their will and pleasure in those days. On with the tourniquet, and off with the limb, was the mode then; any attempt to reduce a fracture being considered a waste of time, and a style of cure troublesome alike to patient and physician. After searching about for some time to find a son of Esculapius unemployed, but without success, they adjourned to a café immediately within the Santa Clara gate.
The large drinking-room was crowded with officers, some of whom had got their scars dressed, and, in defiance of the orders ofel medico, were quaffing horn after horn of the country wine, in honour of the victory. Seaton, with his arm slung, was thus employed in one corner with an officer of the 50th, whose head was wrapped in a bloody handkerchief. Many others were in the same trim; and the conversation consisted of loud and boisterous observations and criticisms on this and that movement—the advance of one division, the retreat of another—promotion, brevet, thanks of parliament, a medal,—and so on; and all were lavish in their animadversions on the 18th Hussars, for making so free with the military chest. Their observations were often mingled with loud and reckless military merriment, and an occasional hearty malediction on some wound which would not cease bleeding, or an exclamation of pain at the twinges it gave. Many Spanish officers were sitting over chess-tables, absorbed in their favourite national game, forgetting altogether, in the interest which it excited, the battle so recently gained, and which was of so much importance to the liberties of their country. But it has been truly remarked by some one, that, give the Spaniard his cigar, his sun-shine, hisquerido, and amusements, and it is all one to him whether Spain is ruled by a Solon or a Caligula.
In another corner of the drinking-room, a Spanish colonel was sitting coolly with a napkin and brass bason under his chin, undergoing the operation of being shaved by the senior surgeon of his regiment, as it is, or was, the duty of that officer to take off the colonel's beard every morning, or whenever required. So much for the dignity of the medical profession in Spain.
Enveloped in a cloud of tobacco-smoke, which left no part of him visible but his twinkling grey eyes and red snub nose, Captain Blacier occupied the opposite corner, busy in preparing a luxurious German dish, the ingredients for which he produced from the havresack of glazed canvas which he carried with his blanket on his back. A large tin trencher stood before him, and into it he was shredding a cabbage, which he had picked up when skirmishing in the neighbourhood of Salvatierra the preceding day; and after sprinkling over it pepper, salt, vinegar, and garlic, he began to eat with infinite relish.
After getting his wound dressed by the Spanish medico, and after drinking a few horns ofagua y vino, Ronald procured a light forage-cap in place of his heavy plumed bonnet, and accompanied by Seaton and those who found him on the field, he set out for the regiment, which, with Hill's whole division, lay bivouacked six miles in front of Vittoria, where, after pursuing the French till past midnight, they had halted.
On being accommodated with a horse, Ronald was enabled to accompany the troops, which moved next day to drive the enemy across the Pyrenees. Acting with his usual promptitude, Wellington pushed onward with the third, fourth, and light divisions to Pampeluna, whence the ex-king Joseph, with the greater part of his shattered host, retired into France by the famous pass of Roncesvalles; while the rest, under the command of General Gazan, retired by the vale of El Bastan.
Lord Wellington surrounded Pampeluna, which was yet held by a French garrison; and Graham, who with the left wing of the allies had pursued the retreating enemy on the great road for France, came up with a corps near Tolosa, which he attacked and defeated, and driving them across the Bidassoa, boldly invested the strong fortress of San Sebastian, from the towers of which yet waved the tri-colour and the standard of King Joseph.
CHAPTER VII.
AN OUT-PICQUET ADVENTURE.
"Far, far away, in a strange country,The soldier watch is keeping,Beneath some tower at midnight hour,When all besides are sleeping."Scots Song.
"Far, far away, in a strange country,The soldier watch is keeping,Beneath some tower at midnight hour,When all besides are sleeping."Scots Song.
"Far, far away, in a strange country,
The soldier watch is keeping,
The soldier watch is keeping,
Beneath some tower at midnight hour,
When all besides are sleeping."Scots Song.
When all besides are sleeping."
Scots Song.
Scots Song.
To prevent the French from possessing themselves of the Maya heights, Wellington directed the Earl of Dalhousie, with his division, to threaten them by moving on San Estevan; while Sir Rowland Hill, with the first and three others of his brigades, made a similar demonstration, by marching through the wild and romantic pass of Lanz.
Along the whole line of march from Vittoria to the Pyrenees, a distance of about one hundred miles, the roads were strewed with dead or abandoned horses, broken waggons, dilapidated carriages, military caissons, and clothing of every kind; uniforms of officers, rich dresses, laces, veils, and gloves of ladies, which were torn forth from mails and imperials by the rude hands of guerillas and caçadores, and scattered about everywhere; thousands of French commissariat returns, bundles of bank-notes, and packets of letters, written to many who then lay cold beneath the turf at Vittoria, were scattered over the ground by which the French had retired. Many poor stragglers, disabled by wounds or starvation, fell into the hands of the conquerors, and with others many ladies of Joseph's court, who on escaping, when the carriages were taken by Graham's division, had attempted to make their way to the Pyrenees by passing through wild and unfrequented places. Many of these unfortunate creatures fell into the power of the Spaniards, and were treated in a manner too barbarous to relate; and others were seen by the gentler British, fainting, expiring, or dead by the way-side, bare-footed, almost naked, and reduced to the most pitiable condition. All who were found alive were sent under an escort to the rear, to be placed among the other prisoners.
The great chain of the Pyrenees was now before the victors, and on the 3rd of July, Hill, with his four brigades, began to ascend the heights. After a harassing march through that deep gorge among the mountains which takes its name from the town of Lanz, they came in view of the out-picquets of General Gazan's corps, and arrangements were made to drive them in forthwith. Led by Fassifern, the first brigade moved through the most solitary passes of the mountains by a village named Almandos, and took up a position on the left of Gazan's out-posts, upon which Sir Rowland gave orders to attack them in front. On finding that Cameron had turned their flank so effectually, they retired, firing by the way, and reached their main body at Barreta, where a sharp skirmish took place, in which the Condé d'Amarante's Portuguese suffered considerably.
Next day, Gazan retired precipitately through Elizondo followed by the Portuguese, who were eager to revenge the slaughter of their comrades in the preceding day's skirmish, and the troops resumed their march towards the heights of Maya.
"Cheerily now, Highlandmen!" cried Campbell, flourishing his cudgel, as he spurred his horse past the heavily accoutred sections, who were toiling up the mountains; "hold cheerily on, my lads! Set a stout heart to a stey brae,—ye mind the old saying at home: ye'll soon see the high road to Britain, the way we must all go, ere we see the curl of our ain peat-reek."
A few hours' march brought them to the summits of the Pyrenees, and afar off was seen the ocean, which they had not beheld for so long. It was the way to their homes, and from a simultaneous feeling, which inspired every man, three hearty cheers awoke the echoes of the mountains; caps and bonnets were tossed into the air,—the bands struck up "Rule Britannia," and the pipers blew till their faces grew purple and black. The brigades halted for a few minutes, and a dead silence succeeded the first outbreak of their joy. Every man's breast seemed swelling with emotions, which he found it impossible to communicate; but he read in the faces of his comrades the same joy which quickened the pulses of his own heart. The sea,—the same deep-heaving sea which swept around the rocks and shores of their own country, now spread its broad bosom before them; and long and wistfully they gazed on the white sails of the solitary British cruisers, which here and there dotted the dark-blue waters of the Bay of Biscay. The green ridges of the Lower Pyrenees, the fertile plains and wooded vales of France, lay spread at their feet like a brightly-tinted map. Saint Jean de Luz, the famous and opulent Bayonne, and a thousand minor towns and villages were seen from those lofty summits, now trod by British soldiers for the first time. Behind them lay sunny España, through which they had toiled and fought their way, and where many a comrade had found his grave,—but no man looked to the rear. Every eye was turned to the north,—on France, which lay below them. But stern and bloody work was awaiting them, and many a one whose heart then bounded with thoughts of his native home, and with a thousand inexpressible hopes, wishes, and fond anticipations, was doomed to find his last resting-place on these very heights of Maya.
That night the troops bivouacked on the mountain side, a league in front of Elizondo. As it was generally his luck after any march which had been particularly long and tiresome, Ronald Stuart had command of an advanced picquet, forming one of the chain thrown out in the direction of Gazan's division, which had taken up a position lower down the mountains with the determination to dispute every inch of ground that led tola belle France,—a resolution which the Marquess of Wellington determined to put to the test next day. Stuart's orders were to visit his sentries every hour throughout the night, to keep them on the alert; a duty which proved very harassing after so long a march, as it was almost impossible to sleep in the short intervals between the rounds. However, fretting would not have bettered the affair, and rolling himself up in his cloak, he resolved to make himself as comfortable as he possibly could. A huge fire lighted by the soldiers lessened the cold, and counteracted the effects of a heavy wetting dew, which falls amid these mountains at almost every season.
After his ration of beef had been broiled on the embers, eaten without salt off the end of a ramrod, and washed down with a canteen-full of that rich cider, for the production of which the district around Elizondo is so famous, after listening to the merry bells of the town which were ringing in honour of the British, and after watching until he grew weary the varying effects of light and shade, as the red blaze of a dozen picquet-fires glared on the beetling crags, deep seams and gorges, or green sides of the hills, he found it almost impossible to resist the invasion of sleep. Even the miniature of his dark-haired Alice failed to enliven him, and he envied the privates of his party, who, having neither command nor responsibility, slept soundly by the fire, with their knapsacks beneath their heads and their arms piled beside them. On consulting his watch to see how the time went, he found that it was midnight, and that an hour had elapsed since his last visit. As it was necessary to be attended by some one, he awoke Evan,[*] and desiring him to take his arms, moved towards his sentinels, whom he had considerable trouble in discovering, as the night was intensely dark. All was right, every soldier was on the alert, and Ronald was returning with his follower through the winding and rocky path towards the fire, which served as a beacon to guide them to their post, and which they beheld glimmering through the gloom some hundred yards off, when a piercing cry rang through the still air, at a short distance from the place where they were.
[*] An officer's servant is always on duty with his master.
"Hey, sir!" exclaimed Evan, beginning to unbuckle his pouch; "what can that be, in sic a wild place as this?"
"A woman's voice, I think."
"It cam frae the hill on the left o' the road,—I'm sure o't. Hech! it was an unco' cry."
"Follow me," said his master, beginning quickly to ascend the hill.
"Hech, sir! dinna venture up the bank till we hear something mair," said Evan cautiously, following promptly nevertheless. "My certie! we kenna what folk may bide amang the holmes and howes hereabout. At hame I have heard tell o' sic cries ringing at this time, between the nicht and morning, and they were ay for ill, and never for gude. Sae be advised, sir, and wait awee."
"Evan!" said Stuart angrily, "are you afraid of men?"
"Ye ken I am no, sir!" replied the Highlandman sharply. "I would scorn to turn heel on sax o' the best that ever trod on heather. Mair would, may be, be venturesome."
"Of bogles, then,—or spunkies, or what?" The soldier was silent.
"Campaigning might have taught you to laugh at such ideas, Evan."
"Gang on, sir," replied the other sturdily; "if auld Mahoud, wi' horns, hoof, and blazin' een sat on the brae head, I'll follow ye; but auld Dugald the cornel's man tauld me an unco' story ca'd thelham-dearg, that gars me scunner at my ain shadow after nicht-fa'." Again the cry rang loud and shrilly, and many others followed in succession.
"There is no mistake now," cried Ronald, rushing up the hill towards a light, which was seen twinkling through the darkness. "It is the voice of a woman,—and she cries for help." Scrambling forward, among rocks and stunted trees, a few moments brought them in front of a hut of the rudest and humblest construction. The light shone through the open hole which served for a window, and from this structure the cries, which had now died away, had certainly proceeded. Before he entered, Ronald reconnoitred the interior through the loop-hole. Two shepherds, arrayed in the coarse clothing made of the undyed wool of the mountain sheep, sat smoking cigars and drinking at a rough wooden table, while they coolly surveyed a very singular scene. A young and very handsome woman, a lady evidently by her form and air, although her dress was torn and soiled, her white silk bonnet hanging in fritters, her hair dishevelled, and her feet almost bare, struggling wildly with, and exerting every energy to oppose, the brutality of—whom? Cifuentes! the diabolical Narvaez Cifuentes, who, like a bird of ill omen, seemed doomed to cross the path of Ronald Stuart wherever he went,—and even there, on the borders of France. He appeared the same ferocious dog as ever, with his matted hair and scrub-beard; but his aspect was now rendered hideous by a large scar on the cheek and chin, caused probably by the random shot which Lord Dalhousie had bestowed upon him at Vittoria. His musquet, sabre, and pistols lay upon the table. His stiletto he held to the white neck of the sinking girl, and swore by every saint in the calendar that he would plunge it in her heart, if she did not cease her cries. Overcome with terror and exhaustion, she sunk upon her knees before him, when Evan, applying his foot to the door, dashed it in, and Stuart, rushing forward, grasped Narvaez by the throat, hurled him to the earth before, in his own defence, he could strike a blow with his weapon, which Evan wrested adroitly from his hand, and saying, with a grin, that "it wad mak' a brave skene-dhu for his faither the piper," stuck it into his right garter. Fiercely did Cifuentes struggle with his athletic assailant, who, although he planted a foot on his throat, delayed, with a mistaken humanity, to bury his claymore in his heart,—a display of mercy Ronald had reason afterwards to repent most bitterly.
The two herds started to their feet on beholding this unexpected conflict, and the lady, in the extremity of her terror, flung her arms around Stuart, and, grasping him convulsively, completely impeded his motions. Of this circumstance his adversary did not fail to take the utmost advantage. After several fruitless efforts, he escaped from Ronald's powerful grasp, and, eluding the bayonet of Evan, who charged him breast-high, rushed from the cottage, and disappeared in the darkness with the speed of a hare. Ronald's fury was now turned against the villanous shepherds, whom, in the extremity of his anger, he threatened to put to death; upon which they quitted their dwelling, and made a hasty retreat. While Evan stood sentinel at the door, his master endeavoured to calm and pacify the young lady, whom he found to be French—very pretty, and very attractive. No sooner had her terror subsided, than she returned him thanks and praises with such volubility in French and English, that Ronald became almost abashed, and with some reserve inquired her name?
"The Baroness de Clappourknuis."
"Oh, indeed! And how alone in such a place as this?"
"Ah! monsieur, you need scarcely ask. When the royal carriages were captured, on the road to Bayonne, I was one of the few who effected an escape from them. Oh, pity me!monsieur officier, and do not deliver me up to be sent a prisoner to England."
"Madame, what would you have me to do?"
"Oh, any thing you please,—that is, monsieur, conceal me but for a day or so. General Gazan's troops are not far off, and my husband the baron is with them. I may find means to rejoin him safely. I am sure you will not treat me cruelly—your look is so gentle. But we Frenchwomen have quite a terrible idea of you British soldiers, and my fears have carried me thus far from the fatal plains of Vittoria. Ah! good sir, you may imagine, but I can never describe the terrors, the miseries, the horror I have undergone while wandering so great a distance, alone and unprotected, among these barbarous Spaniards. And,O mon Dieu!when I had almost gained the shelter of Gazan's lines, I fell into the power of that fearful creature, from whose savage treatment you have so bravely rescued me."
"Where did you meet with him, madame?"
"Wandering in the pass of Lanz,—for I was compelled to seek the most unfrequented paths. Clad in the habit of some of thereligieuxof this country, he met me. I had nothing to fear from one who wore the garb of peace. I confided in him: he offered to become my guide, and led me hither. You know the rest. Ah, monsieur! complete your kindness, I beseech you, and see me in safety to the French outposts!"
"What you ask of me, madame, I cannot perform, and I say so with regret. 'Tis three miles from this to the enemy's position. I cannot escort you myself, being on a particular duty, and I have not the means of sending you thither; yet, believe me, for the sake of poor D'Estouville's first love I would do much."
This was said in a tone of feeling, slightly mingled with reproach, and the colour of the lady came and went while she gazed on Ronald with a look of considerable surprise.
"Monsieur," said she, after a pause, "did you know Major d'Estouville?"
"Intimately, although a Frenchman and an enemy. I beheld him die."
"At Merida?" Her lip quivered.
"Yes, madame."
"Poor Victor!" said the baroness thoughtfully.
"The last words he uttered were your name,—Diane de Montmichel. He expired in great agony, on a bed of straw, stretched on the cold pavement of an ancient chapel."
"Merci! Ah, monsieur! do not, do not tell me any more of this!" said she, covering her face with her hands,—which, I may observe, were very small and beautifully formed,—and beginning to weep and sob. "I dare not think of Victor now,—now when the wedded wife of another! To do so would be a sin, even although he is dead."
"D'Estouville told me his story. He loved you very truly, madame."
"I know that. You will certainly think me very cruel in deserting him, but Heaven knows I did not do so wilfully; I was not entirely to blame. At Lillebonne we understood that he had been killed; and long I wept and sorrowed for him, and protested that, until death, I would remain unwedded for his sake. Monsieur le Baron made proposals for my hand, and it was given him by my parent even before my consent was obtained. Terror, sorrow, and domestic persecution did the rest, and I became the bride of the new suitor, who indeed loves me very dearly, and I have every reason to be grateful to him. A coronet is a gay and attractive thing; yet think not, monsieur, that I have forgotten poor Victor, though I struggle with my heart to teach it the duty it owes the baron. One cannot have two loves for one heart," she added, sobbing and blushing.
"Well, madame," said Stuart, anxious to end her embarrassment, "some arrangement must be made. First, let us leave this place."
"Eh bien!" said the lady joyfully; and beginning to bustle about, she put her dilapidated dress in some order. "But," added she, shrugging her shoulders, "for where, monsieur?"
"With your permission, madame, to my picquet at the foot of the hill, in the first place," replied Stuart, consulting his watch. "I have been absent nearly an hour. Hah! there will be the devil to pay should I be missed."
"Ay will there, sir," said Evan, who had leaned his chin upon the muzzle of his piece, and 'glowered' with considerable surprise during the sudden and animated conversation which his master had carried on so glibly with the strange lady. "I hae been keepin' my lug to the wind, to hearken if ony soonds cam up the brae, but there has been naething asteer as yet. Ye hae nae been missed; but, gude save us, sir, let's awa before waur comes o't! Fassifern 'the chief' himsel's on duty; and whan he gangs the round, a bonnie kick up there will be gin ye're no at your post; and ye ken the cornel is waur than the deil to warsle wi'." Stuart knew that this was good and sound advice, however homely its delivery; and he prepared to rejoin his picquet, before Cameron, who was field-officer on duty, might visit it.
By pinning up here and there, tucking up one thing and letting out another, the lady wrought away rapidly with her neat and nimble little hands, working as only a Frenchwoman could have done, and in three minutes, her travel-stained and disordered attire was nicely and very passably arranged. Ronald offered his assistance, but the lady dispensed with it, thanking him with a smile, and saying he "could not be a very adroitfemme de chambre." The glossy locks were smoothly placed over her white forehead, and the crushed bonnet had almost resumed its true Parisian shape. Its draggled feathers were cast aside, but the rich white veil she disposed gracefully over the front; and, looking at Stuart with a glance of mingled archness, coquetry, and timidity, observed that she was "attired somewhat moreà la mode," and took his proffered arm.
"Ah, monsieur!" said she, "once more I intreat you, do not deliver me up as a prisoner to be sent to England,—that horrid place!"
"Not if I can help it,—I pledge you my word of honour. In transferring you to the French lines, I incur considerable risk; but as the distance is so short, I will see if it can possibly be done before day breaks."
He threw his ample cloak around her, and giving strict injunctions to Evan not to acquaint his comrades who the lady was, began to descend the hill as quickly as the trembling steps of the latter would permit along such a dark and rugged path. Before leaving the hut, Evan took care to break and destroy all the offensive weapons it contained, saying as he did so, "that fules and bairns shuldna hae chappin' sticks." He proposed to set the hut in a "bleeze," to light their way down the hill, but his master at once objected. The darkness renewed the terrors of the young lady.
"Is the way long, monsieur?" asked she in a faltering tone.
"O no,—quite near. You see the picquet-fire yonder. Ah, madame! how fortunate I am in having come so opportunely to your rescue."
"Oh! I shall never forget you in my prayers,—never, monsieur."
"But why are you trembling so much? Surely you are not afraid of me?"
"O no! your behaviour is too cavalier-like and gentle for that; and we have become quite like very old friends in half-an-hour's time."
"Do you fear the darkness, then?"
"Mon dieu! Ah! the darkness is nothing new to me. Alas!" replied she, shrugging her shoulders, "since the field of Vittoria I have passed every night in dark and lonely places; and I wonder now how one so timid, and so delicately nurtured has not sunk under all the fears and privations I have undergone for some days and nights past." The lady started. At that moment the voice of a sentinel was heard to give the usual challenge.
"Who comes, there?"
"Rounds!" answered the bold voice of Fassifern, and the tramp of his horse's hoofs rang on the roadway between the mountains.
"Stand, rounds!" replied the sentry, porting his musquet, and so on; with the usual ceremony, the parole and countersign were given and received.
"Excuse me, madame, but for a minute," said Stuart. "I am just in time; an instant later, and I should have been missed." Leaving the side of the trembling lady he bustled about, and got his picquet under arms.
On the departure of Fassifern, whose movements the baroness had watched with no ordinary feelings of caution and fear, Evan was despatched for Macdonald, whom he found enjoying himself with some other officers at a wine-house in Elizondo. He came promptly enough, and was not a little surprised when Ronald requested as a favour, that he would escort a young lady to within sight of the French lines, explaining at the same time, in as few words as possible, her story and the nature of her situation.
Alister at once accepted the honour of being her convoy. "But," said he, looking into the gloom which surrounded them, "the route is confoundedly dreary across the mountains to the rock of Maya,—Gazan's post."
"I am perfectly aware of it," replied Stuart, with an air of pique. "'Tis impossible the baroness can go alone, and gallantry requires us to set Wellington's orders at defiance for once, and not deliver her up. I would have escorted her myself, but cannot leave my picquet."
"Monsieur," said the baroness, "I am indeed sorry to trouble you; but surely you do not complain of the duty—"
"Oh, no! impossible, madame," exclaimed Alister, the blood mounting to his handsome features at the idea, while, gracefully raising his bonnet, he observed her fair face by the red light of the fire. "But will you entrust yourself to the guidance of one who is entirely a stranger, through a road so dark and dangerous?"
"I have no alternative, alas!" said she, bending her bright eyes into the gloom, as if she strove to pierce the depths beyond. She shuddered. "'Tis very dark, indeed, messieurs. I have no alternative but to go, or to remain and be sent a captive to Britain. Monsieur, I will go with you. I will depend on the untarnished honour of a British officer, that I shall be conveyed in safety to Gazan's sentinels at the rock of Maya."
"Madame, you do me an honour never to be forgotten," answered Macdonald, with a bow profound enough for any "puffing señor" of Old Castile, while the lady took his arm.
"Lend me your dirk, Stuart. I left mine at the winecaza," said Alister, adjusting his belt and putting his basket-hilt free of plaid, sash, tassels, &c. "It is as well to be prepared for any sudden attack, and the baroness must be my warrant that I am not made a prisoner of by some of Gazan's scouts or sharp-shooters. So then, good-by, Stuart; I will come brattling up the brae in an hour or so."
The lady kissed her hand to Stuart and departed with Macdonald, feeling a confidence and assurance of safety which probably no British lady would have felt, if entrusted to the charge of a foreigner under the same peculiar circumstances.
"And this is Diane de Montmichel, the false love of poor Victor d'Estouville," thought Ronald, as her light figure disappeared in the darkness. "Well, I believe, if all the tales his friend De Mesmai told me were true, one cannot look for much faith in French women!"
For Macdonald's return he waited with considerable anxiety, which increased when the time by which he expected him passed away without his appearing, and day began to dawn on the Maya heights. He could not help dreading that Alister had not been wary enough, and had been captured by the French advanced sentinels. If so, the escape of the baroness would come to light, and he feared the Marquess of Wellington would make a deuced unpleasant row about it. He also remembered Narvaez Cifuentes, whom for some time he had forgotten, and supposed that his friend might have fatally encountered this savage bandit and some of his companions.
The morning had now dawned, but the valleys between Elizondo and the rock of Maya, and even the summits of the Lower Pyrenees, were still almost involved in darkness. Shaking the dew from their booming wings, the eagles were soaring through the blue sky from their eyries among the cliffs, and the morning breeze, as it swept along the mountain sides, bore with it the delightful perfume of the aromatic plants and little shrubs which flourish so plentifully in all waste places throughout Spain. From the dying embers of the picquet-fire a puff of smoke curled now and then on the pure air, but scarcely a sound woke the echoes of the place, save the proud and steady tread of the sentries as they strode to and fro on their posts.
Beyond the advanced chain of the latter, Ronald wandered far in search of Macdonald, and to await his return seated himself upon a fragment of rock, and watched attentively the long valley which lay between him and the Lower or French Pyrenees, varying this employment, by holloaing to the eagles as he used to do at home, or by hurling stones at the glossy black ravens as they screamed aloud, flapped their wings, and from the rocks of the surrounding wilderness stared at him as an intruder upon their solitude. The voice of some one singing a Gaelic song,—
"Cha teid mis a chaoidh,"[*]
"Cha teid mis a chaoidh,"[*]
"Cha teid mis a chaoidh,"[*]
caused him to spring to his feet.