Meanwhile Lumsden of the 95th had trotted off, across the great square, past the church of San Martin, towards the University and the Tormes bridge. He was bound for a farmhouse some five miles south-east of the city, where it had been reported that a considerable quantity of flour could be purchased for the troops. Since the arrival of his regiment in Salamanca a fortnight before, he had been employed continuously on commissariat business, and was the object of envy to his fellow-subalterns, who would gladly have found some special work of the kind to vary the monotony of life. It was the 28th November in the year 1808. Salamanca was full of British soldiers, who had marched in on the 13th amid a drenching rain-storm and the cheers of the inhabitants. They comprised six infantry brigades and one battery of artillery, among the former being the famous 95th Rifles under Colonel Beckwith, in which Jack Lumsden was a second lieutenant. The main artillery force, with its escort, was near the Escurial, a few miles from Madrid, under Sir John Hope, who was intending to march northwards to join his chief; while Sir David Baird lay at Astorga, with three batteries, four infantry brigades, and a force of cavalry under Lord Paget. The infantry had marched from Lisbon under Sir John Moore, who had succeeded to the chief command of the British forces in the Peninsula recently vacated by Sir Hew Dalrymple. At Salamanca Sir John expected to receive news of the approach of a Spanish force under the Marquis of La Romana, to co-operate with him in offensive movements against the French. The march had been particularly arduous and uncomfortable; rain had fallen in torrents for the greater part of the way, and owing to lack of supplies the men were in a sorry state as regards clothes and equipment. But they nourished high hopes of soon inflicting a heavy blow on the French invaders; and though the delay, due to want of definite information about the movements of the Spaniards and the position of the French, was telling somewhat on the spirits of the force, Sir John Moore was so popular with all ranks, and enjoyed their confidence so thoroughly, that discontent had only shown itself in half-humorous protests like that of Corporal Wilkes. Jack Lumsden rode easily through the darkening streets, passed the sentry at the bridge head, and cantered along the sodden road leading to Alba de Tormes. Three miles out of Salamanca he struck off to the left, and, carefully picking his way among the ruts and depressions, reached his destination just as the black darkness of a November evening fell. His errand with the farmer occupied some little time. He then accepted the refreshments pressed upon him with true Castilian hospitality; and at length, towards seven o’clock, set off on the return journey.