ades; for had he done so, Broglio would have
captured the city of Hanover, which lay perfectly open to him
within a day's march.

Fergus had been specially employed in carrying despatches to the
British division, and had made many acquaintances among the
officers. As the army gradually concentrated, when the French
forces drew closer together, he often spent the evening in their
tents when the day's work was done.

In the Scotch regiment he was soon quite at home. The fact that he
was related to Marshal Keith, of whom every Scotchman was proud,
and had been one of his aides-de-camp, sufficed in itself to render
him at once popular. The officers followed with eager interest the
accounts of the various battles he had witnessed, and little by
little extracted from him some account of the manner in which he
had won his steps so rapidly in the Prussian service. He found that
they, and the British troops in general, had a profound dislike for
Lord Sackville; who commanded them, but who was especially in
command of their cavalry. All described him as a heavy, domineering
fellow, personally indolent and slow, on ill terms with the Duke of
Brunswick, whom in a quiet and obstinate way he seemed bent on
thwarting.

"He is an ill-conditioned brute," one of the officers remarked.
"The only thing to be said for him is that he is not deficient in
personal courage. He has fought several duels, into which he
brought himself by his overbearing temper."

Although he had frequently carried despatches to Sackville, Fergus
had not exchanged a word with him. The English general had taken
the paper from his hand, barely acknowledging his salute; and not
indeed glancing at him, but turning on his heel and walking off to
read the contents of the despatch, which generally appeared to
displease him, judging by the manner in which he spoke to his
officers. Then he would go into his tent, and one of his
aides-de-camp would shortly come out with a letter containing his
reply.

Fergus naturally came to regard the English commander with the same
dislike that his own officers felt for him. One day, when handing
him a despatch, he omitted the usual salute. Sackville noticed it
at once.

"Why do you not salute, sir?" he said, raising his head, and for
the first time looking at the duke's aide-de-camp.

"This is the twelfth time, sir, that I have brought despatches from
the Duke of Brunswick. Upon each occasion I have made the military
salute.