him in his
proposed _coup_ upon Sabugal, and which had arrived from Celorico but
the day before) came galloping down through the woods with a squadron
of French cavalry in pursuit, and charging in panic through the
rearguard flung everything into confusion. The day was a rainy one,
and the militia, finding their powder wet, ran for the ford like
sheep. The officers, however, kept their heads and got the men over,
though with the loss of two hundred prisoners. Even so, Marmont might
have crossed the river on their flank and galloped into Celorico
ahead of them. As it was, he halted and allowed the rabble to save
themselves in the town. While blaming his head I must do justice to
his heart and add that, finding what poor creatures he had to deal
with, he forbade his horsemen to cut down the fugitives, and not a
single man was killed.

Foreseeing that Trant must sooner or later retreat upon
Celorico--though ignorant, of course, of what was happening--I was
actually crossing the river at the time by a ford some four miles
above, not in the French staff officer's uniform which I had worn out
of Sabugal, but in an old jacket lent me by my friend the shepherd.
By the time I reached the town Wilson had swept in his rabble and
was planting his outposts, intending to resist and, if this became
impossible, to blow up the magazines before retiring. Trant and
Bacellar with the bulk of the militia were continuing the retreat
meanwhile towards Lamego.

I need only say here that Wilson's bold front served its purpose.
Once, when the French drove in his outposts, he gave the order to fire
the powder, and a part of the magazine was actually destroyed when
Marmont (who above all things hated ridicule, and was severely taxing
the respect of his beautiful army by these serio-comic excursions
after a raw militia) withdrew his troops and retired in an abominable
temper to Sabugal.

How do I know that Marmont's temper was abominable? By what follows.

On March 30th I had left my kinsman, Captain Alan McNeill, with his
servant Jose at Tammanies. They were to keep an eye on the French
movements while I rode south and reported to Lord Wellington at
Badajoz. It was now April 16th, and in the meanwhile a great deal had
happened; but of my kinsman's movements I had heard nothing. At first
I felt sure he must be somewhere in the neighbourhood of Marmont's
headquarters; but even in Sabugal itself no hint of him could I hear,
and at length I conc