"_Caramba_! Rouse, senors," cried Alvaro, who was the first to awake. "_Carajo_! Ay, there go the field-pieces: old Rowland’s in his saddle already," muttered the major, scrambling up from the floor on which he had rolled in the night time, and placing his large bonnet on the wrong way, permitting the long feathers to stream down his back. "Rouse, gentlemen! Up and be doing, sirs, or we shall be missed from our posts. Old Mahoud take the rule for marching before day-break! Sir Ralph never made us do so in Egypt, and we gained laurels there, gentlemen—I say we did. This infernal bonnet! ’tis always falling off." "I wish to Heaven I could sleep an hour longer!" said Ronald. "I have scarcely had three hours’ sleep this week past." "Our brigade never sleep, gentlemen," cried Campbell, who was still a little inebriated, "never! We march all night, and fight all day: we used to reverse the matter in Egypt. But what have we here? Peter Forbes—or what is your name, what’s the matter? Are Dombrouski’s dragoons among ye?" "_Ave Maria! O Dios mio! O Senor Don Alvaro!_" cried Sargento Pedro Gomez, appearing at the entrance of the room with a lamp in his hand; "we have had the devil among us last night!" "How so, fellow? What has happened?" "The bravo has escaped—" "How! Diavolo, escaped?" "Ay, noble senor, and carried off the carbine of poor Diego de la Zarza, whom we found lying within the chamber with his throat cut from ear to ear." The cavalier ground his teeth with absolute fury, while his olive cheek grew black with rising passion. "_Santos! Santissimus!_" cried he; "would to San Juan, and all the calendar, I had hanged him last night! My brave Diego—but he must have slept; if so, he deserves his fate. Well, there is no help for this matter; we will give Narvaez Cifuentes a short prayer and a long stab the next time we meet, and that without delay. But we must be off; the cavalry advance-guard, and part of the artillery, have already passed. Let the _trompetero_ sound ’to horse;’ and hasten, Pedro, and get the troop into their saddles. Though we belong to the division of Murillo, we will cross the bridge with you to-day, senors, and strike a blow for honour. _Viva Eapaña y buena Esperanza_! ’Tis a better war-shout than the _Vive l’Empereur_ of the followers of the perfidious Buonaparte." "There are the drums of our brigade," said Ronald Stuart; "and should we be missed by Fassifern, the excellency of Don Alvaro’s purple Malaga and sherry, or even the smiles of Donna Catalina herself, would form but a poor excuse for lingering. Hark! the _generale_." "You improve in the art of gallantry," observed Macdonald; "you could not have turned such fine speeches the morning we halted in the Black Horse-square, at Lisbon. But I regret that we must march without bidding adieu to our fair _patrona_."