Further off, in another direction, were the glares of other watchfires, around which similar groups were gathered--fires that shed their light in fitful flashes on the long rows of white bell-tents, on the dark figures that flitted to and fro, and on the forms of the distant and solitary sentinels, who stood steadily on their posts, the point of each man's bayonet shining like a red star as the flame tipped it with fire. "Here comes Colville," said Monkton, as that individual, who was somewhat of a dandy and man of fashion, lounged slowly up, and cast himself languidly on the grass. "You have just been with the colonel, I suppose?" "Yes--a deuced bore--to report the baggage all up with the battalion, the guard dismissed to their tents, and luckily, no casualties, save a mule that we lost in a bog." "And you found him bland, as usual?" "I found him quartered, not in the castle, as I expected, but in a deserted house half ruined by the French," replied Colville, smiling; "the only habitable apartment was the kitchen, where our colours are lodged, and there he was eating a tough bullock steak, embers and all, just as his man had cooked it, on the ramrod of an old pistol. Egad, it was a picture!" "A dainty kabob we should have called it in Egypt," said Major Middleton, laughing, with a huge magnum-bonum bottle of brandy-and-water placed between his fat legs. "Ah, the Honourable Cosmo should not have quitted his guardsman's comforts at the York Coffee-house, or Betty Neale's fruit-shop in St. Jameses Street,* to rough it with the line in the Peninsula!" * Two favourite resorts of the Household Brigade in those days. "Did he compliment you on bringing up your disorderly charge without other loss than the mule?" asked Askerne. "The devil a bit," yawned Colville; "with his glass stuck in his eye, he gave me one of his cool stares, and said, briefly, 'That will do, sir--to your company.'" "Ah," grumbled Middleton, shaking his old head, while his pigtail swayed to and fro, "the colonel may have in his veins good blood, as it is called, but he has in his heart about as much of the milk of human kindness as if it belonged to an old lawyer." The last part of the sentence, we are bound to add, was partly mumbled into the mouth of the magnum, which at that moment the major applied to his own. "Here comes Dick Warriston," said Monkton, as an officer muffled in a cloak approached. "Hallo, Dick--how goes it, man?" "Good evening, gentlemen--thought I should find you out. I heard on the march that our friend the volunteer had turned up again. How are you, Kennedy? glad to see you safe and sound once more," said Quentin's old friend, as they shook hands, and he cast his ample blue muffling aside, displaying his well-built figure, with the scarlet coat, green lapels, and massive gold epaulettes of the Scots Brigade. "Be seated, Dick." "Thanks, Askerne." "Do you prefer a chair, or a sofa?" asked Monkton.