But when we were beyond the town, and between hedges again, I think I must have dozed off in my saddle. For, though this was a road full of sharp memories, being the last I had traveled with Delia, I have no remembrance to have felt them; or, indeed, of noting aught but the fresh night air, and the constellation of the Bear blazing ahead, and Billy’s voice resonant beside me. And after this I can recall passing the tower of Marham Church, with the paling sky behind it, and some birds chattering in the carved courses: and soon (it seem’d) felt Billy’s grip on my knee, and open’d my eyes to see his finger pointing. We stood on a ridge above a hollow vale into which the sun, though now bright, did not yet pierce, but passing over to a high, conical hill beyond, smote level on line after line of white tents—the prettiest sight! ’Twas the enemy there encamped on the top and some way down the sides, the smoke of their trampled watch fires still curling among the gorsebushes. I heard their trumpets calling and drums beating to arms; for though, glancing back at the sun, I judged it to be hardly past four in the morning, yet already the slopes were moving like an ant-hill—the regiments gathering, arms flashing, horsemen galloping to and fro, and the captains shouting their commands. In the distance this had a sweet and cheerful sound, no more disquieting than a ploughboy calling to his team. Looking down into the valley at our feet, at first I saw no sign of our own troops—only the roofs of a little town, with overmuch smoke spread above it, like a morning mist. But here also I heard the church bells clashing and a drum beating, and presently spied a gleam of arms down among the trees, and then a regiment of foot moving westward along the base of the hill. ’Twas evident the battle was at hand, and we quicken’d our pace down into the street. It lay on the slope, and midway down we pass’d some watch fires burn’d out; and then a soldier or two running and fastening their straps; and last a little child, that seem’d wild with the joy of living amid great events, but led us pretty straight to the sign of “The Tree,” which indeed was the only tavern. It stood some way back from the street, with a great elm before the porch: where by a table sat two men, with tankards beside them, and a small company of grooms and soldiers standing round. Both men were more than ordinary tall and soldier like: only the bigger wore a scarlet cloak very richly lac’d, and was shouting orders to his men; while the other, dress’d in plain buff suit and jack boots, had a map spread before him, which he studied very attentively, writing therein with a quill pen. “What a plague have we here?” cries the big man, as we drew up. “Recruits if it please you, sir,” said I, dismounting and pulling off my hat, tho’ his insolent tone offended me. “S’lid! The boy speaks as if he were a regiment,” growls he, half aloud: “Can’st fight?”