"O Evan! my faithful but foolish fellow, what is this you have done? Did you really strip yourself for me, and pass the night thus exposed?" exclaimed Ronald, his heart overflowing with tumultuous feelings at the kindness of his humble follower and old friend. "I thocht ye would be cauld, sir," replied Evan, his teeth chattering while he spoke, "and my heart bled to see ye lying there like a beast o’ the field on the dreary muir, in siccan a miserable and eerie nicht. For me it mattered naething,—for neither my name nor bluid are gentle. I’m the son of your father’s vassal, and, Maister Ronald, I did but my duty,—what my puir auld faither would hae wished me to do." "See that you never again subject yourself to such a privation on my account; and Heaven knows, Evan, I will not forget your kindness," said Ronald, laying his hand familiarly on the tufted wing which adorned Iverach’s shoulder. "You appear to be perishing with cold, and my canteen is empty. See if your comrade, Angus Mackie, or any one, will give you a drop of something to warm you. Where is the colonel? I do not see him." "Lying yonder, on the bieldy side of his horse." "And Mr. Macdonald—" "Is sleeping by the bieldy side of the major, and a burn of water rinnin round them. Och, sirs! it’s awfu’ wark this for gentlemen’s sons." "Rouse, Alister!" said Ronald, stirring him with his sword; "we shall get under arms immediately. I see, through the mist yonder, that Howard is preparing to mount." He shaded the rays of the sun from his eyes with his hand, and perceived at some distance the brigadier, with his tall cocked-hat and large military cloak, examining the girths of his saddle and the holsters, while he despatched the brigade-major to the officers commanding regiments. The long roll of several drums, sounding dull and muffled with the rain, immediately followed, rousing the bivouac; and the troops "stood to their arms," preparatory to moving off, all draggled and wet, and with empty stomachs, in the direction of the enemy, who were to be driven from Merida at the point of the bayonet. The women and camp-followers were sent off to the rear, where the baggage-mules were halted on the La Nava road; the wet cloaks and blankets were rolled up for the march, the officers slinging theirs in their sashes of crimson silk, while those of the soldiers were strapped to their knapsacks. "Uncase the colours, gentlemen. Examine your flints," cried Cameron, touching his bonnet to the officers, as he rode along the front of the line.