The civic trio were as courteous at my departure as they were rude at my entry. First stumped out the cavalry—who had really done the business; then followed the old unctuous Capataz; and I, with a horizontal tripartite bow, closed up the rear. Ere I had fairly quitted the room, the three were all at work again, intently scribbling. The “dressing” of a _procèsverbal_, with formal and full details of the whole transaction, was probably their occupation for the rest of the morning. I was sorry that we had compromised ourselves by the exhibition of cold steel. But, under all the circumstances, I felt little apprehension, to borrow an expression from Jones, of their “telling that ’ere to my Lord Valentine.” The mules were loaded, the men fell in; and, though some of them were still a little the worse for the disaster of the morning, we were quite in a condition to lick any Frenchmen that might come across us, and made a very respectable march of it to the outskirts of the town. There we were again joined by Pledget and Gingham; and shortly after, Fraser, by Mr Chesterfield’s direction, made the infantry load, and saw that each had a supply of cartridges—a process which caused the muleteers to look a little queer. We then proceeded on our march. Passing through an open country, Mr Pledget and Mr Chesterfield rode on side by side in conversation, at the head of the line; while Gingham and I followed close, in similar guise. Suddenly was heard, in the rear, the crack of a musket! A ball whistled close over our heads, and struck the road, a few yards before us. Mr Chesterfield immediately called a halt of the whole party; and he and I proceeded to the rear. As we were riding back, Corporal Fraser came running forward to meet us, and soon explained. Our Yorkshire lad, it appeared, had been larking with another soldier, one of those whose early sobriety the wine had most disturbed, and had got him into a scrape. The result was, that the musket of the half-tipsy soldier had gone off, and had so nearly done execution amongst us in front. It was evident our infantry were not yet in a state to be trusted with loaded arms; it wouldn’t do. Mr Chesterfield gave directions at once, that they should all draw their charges. And as our route for some distance appeared perfectly level and open, so as to afford no cover for a sudden attack, (it was that sort of country so common in France, cultivated to the road-side, but totally bare of hedges, copse, or trees,) it was settled that they should not load again till circumstances rendered it necessary. The man whose musket had caused the alarm looked stupid and bewildered—could give no explanation, but that “it went off.” I observed, however, that Mr Chesterfield quietly spoke a few words to the Yorkshireman. What they were, I did not hear; but they certainly had the effect of making that worthy a better-behaved, though not a merrier man, during the rest of our march. CHAPTER XVI.