"Hanged?" said Slingsby; "then you proved a King's bad bargain, Doctor?" "Not half so bad as you, Jack," retorted our old medico; "but I'll tell you in a few words how it came to pass. When our troops were falling back from Quatre Bras, upon the village of Waterloo, on that stormy 17th of June, which preceded the great battle, I was sent forward with sixteen men of the Scots Brigade to take possession of the principal inn as quarters for the Great Duke and his staff, and to save the house from being plundered or forcibly seized by any one else. We entered the village double-quick: I soon found the inn, and after posting my sentinels in front and rear, preceded to investigate (from motives of personal interest) the contents of the pantry before the Duke arrived. In twenty minutes afterwards we heard musket-shots; I rushed out of the kitchen (where I had been consoling the terrified landlady, and deviling a drumstick,) to find my fellows firing at the French tirailleurs, who were now at the end of the village where they had lined a stone wall. We peppered them briskly; but four of my men had just fallen, when a Belgian officer, all covered with stars and lace, galloped up to me, crying, as he took the road to Brussels, "'Fall back--fall back--Waterloo is surrounded, and you will be cut off!' "I drew out my men and left the village double quick. At the other end of it, I passed a mounted general officer with his staff, who were sitting quietly and composed in their saddles; but he called to me with a loud voice,-- "'Halt, sir--halt your men, and come here!' "I obeyed, and lowered the point of my sword. Oh, there was no mistaking the keen grey eagle eyes, the high nose and white neckcloth; the little blue cloak and brass sabre of this personage. It was Wellington himself. "'In God's name, sirrah,' said he, fiercely, 'why have you abandoned your post?' "'The village is surrounded----' "'It is not surrounded--a few sharpshooters fired a shot or two at our cavalry, but they have been all killed or taken.' "'A Belgian officer-- "'Cowardice--rank cowardice,' said Wellington. 'and at a time like this! Provost Marshal--where are the Provost Marshal and his guard? A rope--get a rope, and hang this young fellow from the nearest tree.' "I was in deadly terror, for I was then a raw lad, and did not perceive that this was, perhaps, only to frighten me; but at that moment Sir Denis Pack dashed up with some intelligence which was of more importance to Europe than the hanging of Ensign Mac Leechy, so Wellington troubled himself no more about me; I shrunk away to pick my half-devilled bone and to rejoin the Scots Brigade, who were bivouacked in a field near the Brussels road. "Soon after Waterloo, I exchanged my ensign's commission for a medical one, and have never since been in terror of being hanged by a Provost, or shot by a court martial."