“The artillery-driver must halt his team If the current be fast or the water deep: But the voltigeur can swim the stream, And climb the bank, be it e'er so steep. “The voltigeur needs no trumpet sound,-- No bugle has he to cheer him on: Where the fire is hottest, that 's his ground,-- Hurrah for the Faubourg of St. Antoine!” As they came to the conclusion of this song, they kept up the air without words, imitating by their voices the roll of the drum in marching time. Joining the first party I came up with, I asked the officer in what direction of the field I should find the cuirassier brigade. “That I can't tell you, Comrade,” said he. “No cavalry have appeared in our neighborhood, nor are they likely; for all the ground is cut up and intersected so much they could not act. But our maître d'armes is the fellow to tell you. Halloo, François! come up here for a moment.” Before I could ask whether this was not my old antagonist at Elchingen, the individual himself appeared. “Eh, what?” cried he, as he lifted a piece of firewood from the ground, and stared me in the face by its light. “Not my friend Burke, eh? By Jove! so it is.” Our cordial greetings being over, I asked Maître François if he could give me any intelligence of D'Auvergne's division, or put me in the way to reach them. “They're some miles off by this time,” said he, coolly. “When I was below the Plateau de Jena last night, that brigade you speak of got their orders to push forward to Auerstadt, to support Davoust's infantry. I mind it well, for they were sorely tired, and had just picketed their horses, when the orderly came down with the despatch.” “And where does Auerstadt lie?” “About four leagues to the other side of that tall mountain yonder.” “What, then, shall I do? I am dismounted, to begin with.” “And if you were not, if you had the best horse in the whole brigade, what would it serve you now, except to pass the day riding between two battle-fields, and see nothing of either? for we shall have hot work here, depend upon it. No, no; stay with us. Be a voltigeur for to-day, and we 'll show you something you 'll not see from your bearskin saddle.” “But I shall be in a sad scrape on account of my absence.” “Never mind that; the man that takes his turn with the voltigeurs of the Twenty-second won't be suspected of skulking. And here comes the major; report yourself to him at once.” Without waiting for any reply, Maître Francois accosted the officer in question, and in a very few words explained my position. “Nothing could come better timed,” said the major. “One of ours has been sent with despatches to the rear, and we may not see him for some hours. Again, a light cavalryman must know how to skirmish, and we 'll try your skill that way. Come along with me.”