"Well, sir," began the Colonel, "I should say to my men: 'When the Highlanders charge, take no notice of the man who is coming straight at you. Keep your eye on his left-hand man, who is coming at your right-hand man. Don't fire at him till you can see the whites of his eyes, and if you don't bring him down with the bullet, have at him and thrust your bayonet into his right ribs. There's no buckler there, and his right arm will be up to strike. The man coming at you will be attended to in the same way by your left-hand man.' After a week's practice in that little trick, sir, I should face any charge your Highlanders liked to make, and would bet a thousand guineas to this pinch of rappee--poor stuff as it is--on stopping 'em dead in their tracks." "By gad! and so you would, sir!" said my Lord Ogilvie explosively. "It sounds feasible," said old Sir Thomas, "but fortunately Colonel Waynflete is with us, and can teach us new tricks." "Of course he can," said Charles. "What do you say, Master Wheatman? You know him." "That old poachers make the best gamekeepers, sir," I answered. "_Nom de chien_," cried the Colonel, twirling fiercely round on me. Margaret, who sat between us, laughingly pretended to protect me from him, and he thrust his snuff-box across at me. The Prince rose, and, followed by Murray, left the room. We all stood gossiping together. Ogilvie and O'Sullivan talked very earnestly about the Colonel's trick. His Grace of Perth ogled Margaret off towards the window on pretence of showing her some sight of interest in the square. "Did they leave him in the lurch?" twittered a voice mockingly in my ear. It was my lady Ogilvie. "It must be nice to be with a duke," said I, very glum and miserable again all of a sudden. "It's a great deal nicer to be with a man," she answered. "Come and help me throw crumbs to the pretty wee birdies in the garden." In his attempt to 'smash 'em in detail' the Prince was acute enough to use the Colonel, and condescending enough to use me, as supporters. The unrivalled military skill which the Colonel would devote to the winning of London was dwelt upon until even the Colonel, in no wise inclined to under-estimate it, got restive, and snuffed and pshawed with great vigour. I, of course, was the early, strong-winged swallow that announced the flights of laggards behind. There were some dozen chiefs of considerable position in the Prince's army, and he tackled them one by one, and tried to argue them into his way of thinking. Some he sent for to his lodging; others he visited in theirs--a special but wasted mark of distinction. On the whole they would not budge. They were courteous and respectful, for they were gentlemen, and he was their Prince, but their minds were made up and they would not surrender their wills to his. Mostly, in their talk, they simply chewed over again the morning's cud.