"Well done 60th!" exclaimed Seaton, as he mustered the companies together. "’Tis hard to say whether the green jackets or the tartan kilts have distinguished themselves most this morning. Lamorciere’s chasseurs will have need of other guides than the dragoons, if they visit the ford to-night." "Ech! Capitan Seetun, ve hab gibben dem _der teufels braden_ for breakfast,—ech, ech!" replied Blacier, cramming a quantity of tobacco into the bowl of a huge pipe, which he had pulled from the mouth of a Serjeant and transferred to his own. "Someting more betterer dan _wahr-sagen_ vill show dem de foord dis nicht,—de dragoons scarcely vill." "No; I believe not, Blacier, my old boy! I shall recommend you to the notice of Sir Rowland in my account of this affair. You have long deserved the brevet." "_Der teufel hole dich_! I tink so. Much obleege—much obleege to you." The Germans had suffered a little in this skirmish, several having been sabred by the French; but only two Highlanders were killed, and these by carbine shots. Every where around the ground was strewed with helmets, holsters, sabres, carbines, and the bodies of men and of horses, rolling about in agony, or lying motionless and still in death. Sometimes a head, a boot and spur, or a gauntletted hand rose above the clear current of the Tagus, and then sunk for ever, as some wounded straggler was swept down by the stream. All the arms and accoutrements lying scattered about were, in conformity with the usual practice, dashed to pieces and completely destroyed by the victors. "We have escaped easily in this affair," said Seaton, as he mustered his light company, "only a file of men killed; it might have been otherwise, had we formed square less promptly. You have done well, my gallant green feathers; you will get an extra ration of grog for this morning’s work!" The Highlanders responded by a cheer. "The Germans have lost many; they lie pretty thick by the water-side." "Owing to their own want of alacrity in answering the bugle-call. Many of them have their heads cloven down, even through the thick shako." "This will teach the survivors to be smarter in future. But where is Lisle?" "Stuart, by all that is sacred he has fallen into the hands of the enemy!" "He was close beside me at the moment the bugle sounded to form square, and I have not seen him since." "I am afraid, sir, Mr. Lisle is either killed or taen awa’ prisoner," said Serjeant Macrone, whose bare knee was streaming with blood, which he endeavoured to stanch by a piece of tartan rent from a plaid. "I saw him stagger under the stroke of a sabre at the moment the dragoons broke frae the bushes amang us," observed another serjeant, advancing his pike.