Mowle followed in silence, having, indeed, some occasion to set his thoughts in order, and to recover his breath. About sixty or seventy yards farther on, a scene broke upon him, which somewhat surprised him; for, instead of a dozen dragoons at the most, he perceived, on turning the corner of the next cottage, a body of at least seventy or eighty men, as well as he could calculate, standing each beside his horse, whose breath was seen mingling with the thick fog, by the light of a single lantern held close to the wall of the house which concealed the party from the Bonnington Road. Round that lantern were congregated three or four figures, besides that of the man who held it; and, fronting the approach, was a young gentleman,[2] dressed in the usual costume of a dragoon officer of that period. Before him stood another, apparently a private of the regiment; and the light shone full upon the faces of both, showing a cold, thoughtful, and inquiring look upon the countenance of the young officer, and anxious haste upon that of the inferior soldier. --------------------- [Footnote 2: It will be seen that I have represented all my officers as young men, even up to the very colonel of the regiment; but it must be remembered, that, in those days, promotion in the service was regulated in a very different manner from the present system. I remember a droll story, of a visitor at a nobleman's house, inquiring of the butler what was the cause of an obstreperous roaring he heard up stairs, when the servant replied, "Oh, sir, it is nothing but the little general crying for his pap."] --------------------- "Here is Mr. Mowle, the chief officer, captain," said the sergeant, as they advanced. "Ha, that is fortunate!" replied Captain Irby. "Now we shall get at the facts, I suppose. Well, Mr. Mowle, what news?" "Why, sir, the cargo is landed," exclaimed Mowle, eagerly; "and the smugglers passed by Bonnington, up towards Chequer-tree, not twenty minutes ago." "So this man says," rejoined Captain Irby, not the least in the world in haste. "Have you any fresh orders from the colonel?" "No, sir; he said all his orders were given when last I saw him," replied the officer of Customs; "but if you move up quick towards Chequer-tree, you are sure to overtake them." "How long is it since you saw Sir Henry?" demanded Captain Irby, without appearing to notice Mowle's suggestion. "Oh, several hours ago," answered the Custom-House agent, somewhat provoked at the young officer's coolness. "I have been kept prisoner by the smugglers since ten o'clock--but that is nothing to the purpose, sir. If you would catch the smugglers, you have nothing for it but to move up to Chequer-tree after them; and that is what I require you to do." "I have my orders," answered the captain of the troop, with a smile at the impetuous tone of the Custom-House officer, "and if you bring me none later, those I shall obey, Mr. Mowle."