“Some battle fou't by his majesty's troops against the French, your honor,” returned the orderly, a little at a loss to comprehend the expression of his officer's eye. “Fellow, you grow dull on victory,” exclaimed Borroughcliffe: “come hither, I would give you orders. Do you think, Mister Drill, there is more honor, or likely to be more profit, in this little morning's amusement than you and I can stand under?” “I should not, your honor: we have both pretty broad shoulders----” “That are not weakened by undue burdens of this nature,” Interrupted his captain, significantly: “if we let the news of this affair reach the ears of those hungry dragoons, they would charge upon us open-mouthed, like a pack of famished beagles, and claim at least half the credit, and certainly all the profit.” “But, your honor, there was not a man of them even----” “No matter, Drill; I've known troops that have been engaged, and have suffered, cheated out of their share of victory by a well-worded despatch. You know, fellow, that in the smoke and confusion of a battle, a man can only see what passes near him, and common prudence requires that he only mention in his official letters what he knows can't be easily contradicted. Thus your Indians, and, indeed, all allies, are not entitled to the right of a general order, any more than to the right of a parade. Now, I dare say, you have heard of a certain battle of Blenheim?” “Lord! your honor, 'tis the pride of the British army, that and the Culloden! 'Twas when the great Corporal John beat the French king, and all his lords and nobility, with half his nation in arms to back him.” “Ay! there is a little of the barrack readings in the account, but it is substantially true; know you how many French were in the field that day, Mister Drill?” “I have never seen the totals of their muster, sir, in print; but, judging by the difference betwixt the nations, I should suppose some hundreds of thousands.” “And yet, to oppose this vast army, the duke had only ten or twelve thousand well-fed Englishmen! You look astounded, sergeant!” “Why, your honor, that does seem rather an over-match for an old soldier to swallow; the random shot would sweep away so small a force.” “And yet the battle was fought, and the victory won! but the Duke of Marlborough had a certain Mr. Eugene, with some fifty or sixty thousand High-Dutchers, to back him. You never heard of Mr. Eugene?” “Not a syllable, your honor; I always thought that Corporal John----”