er willows, where, moored to a stake, lay a fishing boat with two
short oars in her. Lying down beneath the shade, for the afternoon was
hot and sultry, some of us smoked, some chatted, and a few dozed away
the hours that somehow seemed unusually slow in passing.

There was a certain dogged sullenness about my companions, which
proceeded from their belief, that we and all who remained at Strasbourg,
were merely left to occupy the enemy's attention, while greater
operations were to be carried on elsewhere.

"You see what it is to be a condemned corps," muttered one; "it's little
matter what befalls the old ninth, even should they be cut to pieces."

"They didn't think so at Enghein," said another, "when we rode down the
Austrian cuirassiers."

"Plain enough," cried a third, "we are to have skirmishers' duty here,
without skirmishers' fortune in having a force to fall back upon."

"Eh! Maurice, is not this very like what you predicted for us?" broke in
a fourth ironically.

"I'm of the same mind still," rejoined I, coolly, "the general is not
thinking of a retreat; he has no intention of deserting a
well-garrisoned, well-provisioned fortress. Let the attack on Manheim
have what success it may, Strasbourg will be held still. I overheard
Colonel Guyon remark, that the waters of the Rhine have fallen three
feet since the drought set in, and Regnier replied, 'that we must lose
no time, for there will come rain and floods ere long.' Now what could
that mean, but the intention to cross over yonder?"

"Cross the Rhine in face of the fort of Kehl!" broke in the corporal.

"The French army have done bolder things before now!" was my reply, and
whatever the opinion of my comrades, the flattery ranged them on _my_
side. Perhaps the corporal felt it beneath his dignity to discuss
tactics with an inferior, or perhaps he felt unable to refute the
specious pretensions I advanced; in any case he turned away, and either
slept, or affected sleep, while I strenuously labored to convince my
companions that my surmise was correct.

I repeated all my former arguments about the decrease in the Rhine,
showing that the river was scarcely two-thirds of its habitual breadth,
that the nights were now dark, and well suited for a surprise, that the
columns which issued from the town took their departure with a pomp and
parade far more likely to attract the enemy's attention than escape his
notice, and were, therefore, the more likely to be de