‘May be,’ replied Jack; ‘but what’s this coming?’ What had attracted his attention was a regular fleet of large, flat-bottomed boats, which were then approaching the transport. They were manned by British tars and marines, and it soon became evident that the boats were intended to disembark the cavalry. A rare job it was; but, however, it was at last accomplished successfully, and the ‘Death or Glory Boys’ assembled together on Bulgarian soil. They were at once marched off to the British camp, which had been pitched on a scrub-covered plain about a mile from the town and half a mile from a large fresh-water lake. As they proceeded they met detachments of Riflemen, Highlanders, light infantry, Guards, and Marines; red-coats swarmed everywhere. Presently they passed a number of French soldiers, Zouaves, fine fellows in baggy red breeches, white gaiters, and tight-fitting blue jackets, swinging along with their peculiar gait. Jack’s was the first cavalry regiment to arrive, and as the Frenchmen critically surveyed the smart blue and white uniforms, the fluttering lance-pennons, and other gay trappings, they burst out into a kind of yell, which the light cavalrymen, taking to be a compliment, answered with a cheer. ‘If that noise is the best thing the “mounseers” can do in the shape of a cheer,’ growled Sergeant Linham, glaring at the voluble Frenchmen from under the peak of his lance-cap, ‘I don’t think much of it.’ English staff-officers were seen in their plain uniforms galloping here and there, besides dozens of French officers in brass helmets or showy busbies, glittering with a profusion of gold and silver lace, and putting the British quite in the shade. They also saw groups of lazy, indolent Turks, bands of villainous, cunning-looking Greeks, strings of Armenians, and an occasional Bulgarian driving an _araba_, handsome fellows, in black sheepskin caps, baggy breeches, and loose brown jackets, exposing their sunburned chests. In the sash encircling the waist a yataghan or a pistol was often stuck; but for all that they had a dull, dejected look, born of long and cruel oppression by the Turk. At last the camp, pitched on a dry, sandy table-land was reached. The artillery were on the right; the commissariat, surrounded by carts, flocks of sheep, and cattle, on the left; and the Rifles and infantry in the centre. Jack’s regiment, after being marched and counter-marched for a considerable time, was located near the commissariat. ‘Seems as if they didn’t quite know what to do with us now we are here,’ said Jack. ‘Anyway, we’re close to the grub,’ cried Pearson, as he dismounted, ‘and that’s a thing I highly approve of.’ CHAPTER XIV. AN ADVENTURE AT VARNA AND ITS SEQUEL.