It flopped and flowed down to the edge of the cliff, swelling up round and steep towards the brow, a quarter of a mile back from the sea. He was standing at the foot of a prominent shoulder, curving away above him. On the right was a deep coombe, the hill at the blind-end of it sheer-seeming. On his left the jagged edge of the cliff ran up and up and out of sight. Beneath him the sea was a sparkling plain. The Gentleman was kneeling beside his dead. He closed her eyes, and kissed the cold muzzle. _"Adieu, ma mie,_" he whispered. "_L'Irlande n'oubliera jamais."_ Then he put on his hat, and braved the sunshine. "Take my arm, Little Chap." So the two faced the hill. A question bubbled to the lad's lips. At last it blurted out. "How did they catch you, sir?" "They didn't catch me. They murdered her." The arm within the boy's trembled, but the voice continued quietly. "Yesterday I had words with some old friends of mine in the Gap yonder. We parted in a hurry, and I rode up to the Head to watch the fight--your fight." He flashed his grey eyes on the boy. "You were in it, weren't you?" "Yes--a bit." The other drew a sighing breath. "I'd have given all I had to have been there.... "From noon to sundown I watched the fight, and never stirred. My body was asleep. I was aware of nothing but those three black dots, miles beneath me on that plain of silver, spurting flame at each other. Bonnet Rouge grazed beside me. And when she heard the guns, she neighed, shaking her bridle. For she loved brave men and War, and knew it too. Yes, she led the Green Brigade at Marengo." He came to a halt. "When they came right under the cliff, I couldn't see from the top. So I came down here." He lifted his face to the sun. "And that was how they caught me--cornered me here--while I was watching--the sea on all sides but one--and they on that." His face was dusky now. "Her whinny was the first thing that woke me. I turned to see her coming towards me at a stumbling canter--like a hurt child running to its mother." His eyes were shut, his voice strangely still. "They'd run her through--a lady--who thought them friends." A great vein stood out blue on his temple. "I wouldn't have believed it of an Englishman." He sighed profoundly. "But they paid for it." Slanting off the shoulder, he led down towards the coombe on his right. The boy on his arm was trembling. In the deep bosom of the coombe was a green hollow. On the brink they paused. Above them a lark sang. A little circle of men lay round the saucer in the sun, the flies upon their faces. In front of the others a big man sprawled across a great black horse. He flung forward over the saddle-bow, face down. One fat hand was crumpled on the turf. His bob-wig had slipped awry. There was no mistaking that bald red neck with the crease across it. It was Big Jerry Ram, the riding-officer. The Gentleman toed the body.