Look out for the sergeant. Good-bye!"
CHAPTER XXII
A BROTHER OF THE LAMP
Two days afterwards, towards six o'clock on a bitter evening, I rode
wearily into Leek. I was having a hard apprenticeship in soldiering under
a master who had no idea of sparing either me or himself. For the Colonel
had accepted the post of second, under Murray, in command of our
rear-guard, and had made it a condition of acceptance that I should be
with him. Some thirty Highlanders, mostly Macdonalds, picked dare-devils,
had been mounted and turned into dragooners, and I, thanks to the Colonel,
had been made Captain over them.
"The lad's no experience, but he's got sense," he said to my lord George
Murray.
"I ken him weel aneugh," said his lordship. "He threatened to knock my
head off. D'ye ca' that sense, Kit Waynflete?"
"Since your head's still on your shoulders," said the Colonel, fumbling
for his snuff, "I do. He knocked Maclachlan's Donald into a log of timber,
and, damme, I hardly saw his hand move."
"That's only a trick, sir," I protested.
"Weel, Captain Wheatman," said Murray, "keep your ugly English tricks to
y'rsel.
Pages:
435
436
437
438
439
440
441
442
443
444
445
446
447
448
449
450
451
452
453
454
455
456
457
458
459