In this camp an order also arrived from the Horse Guards for the appointment of a colour-sergeant in each company, to be considered as senior or sergeant-major with an extra sixpence per day. As no badges (the cross swords) had arrived from England, the deficiency was supplied by our master-tailor, who formed an imitation with coloured silks worked on the arms of the men appointed. CHAPTER XX. We encamp on the banks of the Bidassoa—Scenes on the water-edge—A narrow escape with a lady in question, “Ah, there’s the rub”—Tom Crawley and the biscuits—Our third battalion carry the heights of Vera—The French camp, “the last of the French”—The Pyrenees—The mountain father—Up hill and down dale—The battle of the Nivelle—Manly and Spanish affection—Blanco again—His gallantry—Tom Crawley—A hug from a granny dear—The last struggle—Crawley’s departure—A tear for Tom—A reel—St. Jean de Luz—The French endeavour to make a stand—Colonel Sir Andrew Barnard wounded—Death messengers fly fast. WE remained encamped, for several weeks, close to the river Bidassoa, Lesaca in our rear, and Vera in our front. We used to amuse ourselves while here, bathing. This river which divides the French and Spanish territories, we were on the eve of crossing to go into France. It was heart-stirring to witness our men, as it were, unconsciously exposing to liberated Spain the evidence of the dangers they had endured for her liberation, stripped on its banks, and prepared to dash into the clear water, the perforated and wounded exteriors of the Rifles proved what they had seen and suffered. But the veterans, not thinking thus, generally amused themselves on these occasions by remarking and jesting to each other on the peculiar situation of the different bullet holes, and the direction the shot had taken in passing through them.