was a Colonel Trant. He commanded a force of
Portuguese, and was a daring partizan leader, and gave us a great deal
of trouble. I was never more pleased than I was at seeing the disgust of
those villagers as they paid the fine imposed on them, and I should
imagine that when El Chico paid his next visit there, his reception
would not be a cordial one. The brigade had been marching all night, and
halted for six hours, and the bullocks, flour, and wine furnished them
with a good meal all round. It was an hour or two before I was able to
stand, but after a while the circulation got right, and I was able to
accompany them when they marched. They did not know until I told them
that our force had passed on ahead of them in pursuit of Wellington. I
made no secret of that, for they would have heard it from the first
peasant they met. When we started, the colonel asked me what I meant to
do.

"'I don't want to keep you prisoner, my man,' he said. 'In the first
place, I don't wish to be troubled with looking after you; and in the
second, you cannot be considered as a prisoner of war, for you were
unarmed and helpless when we found you. Now, we are going to march all
night. I am not going to tell where we are going; but I think it likely
that we shall pass within sight of your camp-fires, and in that case I
will leave you to make your way down to them, and will hand you back
your musket and pouch, which you may want if you happen to fall in with
a stray peasant or two.'

"I had noticed that they had taken along my musket and pouch, which had
been brought up by the fellows that guarded me. They were strapped on to
a mule's pack, of which they had about a couple of dozen with them, but
I little thought the gun was going to be given me again.

"'Monsieur le Colonel,' I said, 'I thank you from my heart. I should
have felt disgraced for ever if I were to go into the camp unarmed. Now,
I shall be able to go in with my head erect, and take my punishment for
having got drunk, and failing to fall in at the assembly, like a man. On
the honour of a French soldier, I swear that I shall for ever regard the
English as the most generous of foes.'

"It was noon when we started, and at nine o'clock at night, as we were
keeping along high up on the hills, I saw our bivouac fires. A minute or
two later, the colonel rode up.

"'There are your fires, lad,' he said. 'I don't fancy there is any
village between us and the spot where your people are e