light in the
windows, and everything was dark and silent, but, of course, I knew that
such comfortable quarters were certainly occupied, and probably by some
one of importance. I have learned, however, that the nearer the danger
may really be the safer the place, and so I was by no means inclined to
trust myself away from this shelter. The low building was evidently the
stable, and into this I crept, for the door was unlatched. The place
was full of bullocks and sheep, gathered there, no doubt, to be out of
the clutches of marauders. A ladder led to a loft, and up this I
climbed, and concealed myself very snugly among some bales of hay upon
the top. This loft had a small open window, and I was able to look down
upon the front of the inn and also upon the road. There I crouched and
waited to see what would happen.

It was soon evident that I had not been mistaken when I had thought that
this might be the quarters of some person of importance. Shortly after
daybreak an English light dragoon arrived with a despatch, and from then
onwards the place was in a turmoil, officers continually riding up and
away. Always the same name was upon their lips: "Sir Stapleton--Sir
Stapleton." It was hard for me to lie there with a dry moustache and
watch the great flagons which were brought out by the landlord to these
English officers. But it amused me to look at their fresh-coloured,
clean-shaven, careless faces, and to wonder what they would think if
they knew that so celebrated a person was lying so near to them. And
then, as I lay and watched, I saw a sight which filled me with surprise.

It is incredible the insolence of these English! What do you suppose
Milord Wellington had done when he found that Massena had blockaded him
and that he could not move his army? I might give you many guesses.
You might say that he had raged, that he had despaired, that he had
brought his troops together and spoken to them about glory and the
fatherland before leading them to one last battle. No, Milord did none
of these things. But he sent a fleet ship to England to bring him a
number of fox-dogs, and he with his officers settled himself down to
chase the fox. It is true what I tell you. Behind the lines of Torres
Vedras these mad Englishmen made the fox-chase three days in the week.
We had heard of it in the camp, and now I was myself to see that it was
true.

For, along the road which I have described, there came these very dog