reply.
"That old cove over there might be made of wax; and what's this a-coming
down the street? I suppose it's a woman, but she might just as well be
a sack. Ugh! Give me England and English girls! Let's get on, old
man, and see what these here Frenchmen are up to."

Everywhere the streets were labelled with French names, and indeed the
French seemed to be far more _en evidence_ than the British. They had
inaugurated a cafe, the best building in the town was utilised as their
hospital, and their general had his quarters in a prominent position.
One might have thought that the British were not there at all, save that
Highlanders stepping briskly along the pavements, and an occasional
infantry-man or a mounted orderly passing through the streets showed
that our forces too were represented.

"It is curious to see so much that is French and so little that is
English," remarked Phil in a disappointed voice. "Everywhere it's Rue
this or Rue that; never an English name, from the landing-stage to the
edge of the town. What can our people be doing?"

"They're awake. You trust 'em for that," Tony answered with conviction,
"Just because they haven't christened all the streets and painted their
names everywhere, don't you think they're not every bit as good as these
here Froggies."

It was almost nightfall when Phil and Tony reached Scutari again and
rejoined their comrades, and there they remained until early in June,
passing the greater part of their days in drills and musketry practice,
and in exploring the surrounding country.

CHAPTER EIGHT.

LOST IN THE CRIMEA.

"Bustle up, you boys! Put your kit together, Tony, as quickly as you
can, for we are off at last!" cried Phil excitedly, on his return one
morning from the tent which had been set apart for the orderly-room
clerks. "I have great news for you."

"What is it? Out with it, Phil!" came in a chorus from the nine men who
shared the tent with him. "A move at last! Hurrah! We're all precious
tired of this place. Is it Russia we're off to?"

"No, not that, but Varna," answered Phil. "We sail to-morrow, I have
been told, and with the French march against the Russians. It will be
the opening scene of a grand campaign, for I hear they are besieging
Silistria, in the province of the Danube."

"Then all them yarns about the Crimea, or whatever they calls it, and
taking Sebastopol, is all wrong 'uns," exclaimed Tony, with disgust.
"Never mind, boys