body of French cavalry
occupied the pass of Berar, when he was sent for by General Cotton to
finish his report.

"How frightened the fellow is!" said Hixley.

"I don't think the worse of poor Sparks for all that," said Power. "He saw
those fellows for the first time, and no bird's-eye view of them either."

"Then we are in for a skirmish, at least," said I.

"It would appear not, from that," said Hixley, pointing to the head of the
column, which, leaving the high road upon the left, entered the forest by a
deep cleft that opened upon a valley traversed by a broad river.

"That looks very like taking up a position, though," said Power.

"Look,--look down yonder!" cried Hixley, pointing to a dip in the plain
beside the river. "Is there not a cavalry picket there?"

"Right, by Jove! I say, Fitzroy," said Power to an aide-de-camp as he
passed, "what's going on?"

"Soult has carried Oporto," cried he, "and Franchesca's cavalry have
escaped."

"And who are these fellows in the valley?"

"Our own people coming up."

In less than half an hour's brisk trotting we reached the stream, the banks
of which were occupied by two cavalry regiments advancing to the main army;
and what was my delight to find that one of them was our own corps, the
14th Light Dragoons!

"Hurra!" cried Power, waving his cap as he came up. "How are you,
Sedgewick? Baker, my hearty, how goes it? How is Hampton and the colonel?"

In an instant we were surrounded by our brother officers, who all shook me
cordially by the hand, and welcomed me to the regiment with most gratifying
warmth.

"One of us," said Power, with a knowing look, as he introduced me; and the
freemasonry of these few words secured me a hearty greeting.

"Halt! halt! Dismount!" sounded again from front to rear; and in a few
minutes we were once more stretched upon the grass, beneath the deep
and mellow moonlight, while the bright stream ran placidly beside us,
reflecting on its calm surface the varied groups as they lounged or sat
around the blazing fires of the bivouac.

CHAPTER XLIV.

THE BIVOUAC.

When I contrasted the gay and lively tone of the conversation which ran on
around our bivouac fire, with the dry monotony and prosaic tediousness of
my first military dinner at Cork, I felt how much the spirit and adventure
of a soldier's life can impart of chivalrous enthusiasm to even the dullest
and least susceptible. I saw even many who under common circumstances