my man?" For a note or two
of a bugle rang out sweet and clear in the beautiful valley, suggesting
to one of the men a similar scene in an English dell; but he sighed to
himself as it struck him that this was a different hunt, and that they,
the men of the --th, the one rifle-regiment of the British Army, were
the hunted, and that those who followed were the French.

A few more cracks from the rifles as the retreat was continued, and then
the French musketry ceased; but the last of the sharpshooters obtained
glimpses of the blue coats of the French coming quickly on.

"Have you sickened them, my lads?" said the young officer, as he led his
men after the retreating main body of their friends.

"No, sir," said the young private addressed; "they seem to have lost
touch of us. The mule-track has led right away to the left here."

"To be sure--yes. Then they will begin again directly. Keep your face
well to the enemy, and take advantage of every bit of cover.--Here,
bugler, keep close up to me."

The sturdy-looking boy addressed had just closed up to his officer's
side when, as they were about to plunge into a low-growing patch of
trees, there was another volley, the bullets pattering amongst the
branches, twigs and leaves cut from above the men's heads falling
thickly.

"Forward, my lads--double!" And the subaltern led his men through the
trees to where the mountain-side opened out a little more; and, pointing
with his sword to a dense patch a little farther on, he shouted, "Take
cover there! We must hold that patch.--Here, bugler!--Where's that
boy?"

No one answered, the men hurriedly following the speaker at the double;
but the young private who had replied to the subaltern's questions,
having fallen back to where he was running with a companion in the rear,
looked over his shoulder, and then, startled by the feeling that the boy
had not passed through the clump, he stopped short, his companion
imitating his example and replying to the eager question addressed to
him:

"I dunno, mate. I thought he was with his officer. Come on; we don't
want to be prisoners."

He started again as he spoke, not hearing, or certainly not heeding, his
comrade's angry words--

"He must be back there in the wood."

Carrying his rifle at the trail, he dashed back into the wood, hearing,
as he ran, shouts as of orders being given by the enemy; but he ran on
right through the clump of trees to where the mule-path meandered