"Rain, rain!" exclaimed Monkton; "what an infernal climate! And this is the land of grapes and sunshine! I've never seen such drops since I was in the West Indies with our flank companies, at the capture of Martinique." At that moment, amid the lashing of the rain on wall and window, the roar of the wind, and the rush of the gorged gutters, the tramp of a horse was heard, and the voice of Buckle, who was brigade-adjutant for the day, was heard shouting-- "Fall in, the outlying picquets of the 1st brigade--sound bugle!" But his voice and the half-strangled bugle notes were alike borne away by the tempest. A heavy malediction escaped Monkton. This worthy sub had puffed at his fragrant Havannah till he had smoked himself into such a soothed state that he was quite indisposed "to be bothered about anything or anybody," as he said; and now he remembered that on halting the sergeant-major had warned him for out-picquet. He sprang up and kicked the brasero aside, sending the smouldering charcoal flying right and left. "Out-picquet!" he exclaimed, "and the rain coming down in bucketfuls! Damme, who would be a soldier abroad, while there are chimneys to sweep at home?" A smart single knock now came to the door, as he belted his sword beneath his cloak. "Come in--is that you, sergeant-major?" "Yes, sir," said old Norman Calder, who was muffled in his grey great-coat, which, as he said, "smoked like a killogie." "Where are these infernal picquets parading?" "I've just come to show you, sir; they are falling in under the arcades opposite the Bishop's palace, where the staff are quartered. Fresh ammunition has just been served out to all." "That looks like work." "Yes, sir; the enemy's cavalry are in force upon the road towards Villa Castin, in our rear." "We have heard little else since we fell back from the Escurial." As a volunteer is always the first man for any perilous duty, Quentin buttoned his great-coat over his accoutrements and musket, and set out to join Monkton's picquet, which Buckle was parading, with several others, under some quaint old arcades of stone, above which the houses, with broad balconies and rich entablatures, remnants of the days when Avila was rich and flourishing, rose to a considerable height. The daylight was nearly gone now, and already the half-drenched and half-fed soldiers looked pale and weary. "As the weather has been frequently wet, and as the duty of to-night is an important one, you will be careful, gentlemen, to inspect the arms, flints, and ammunition of your picquets," said Buckle; "and as the prickers may not be deemed sufficient to indicate the state of the touch-holes, the butts will be brought to the front."