And as he spoke there came the low grumbling of a cannonade away somewhere to the east of us, deep and hoarse, like the roar of some blood-daubed beast that thrives on the lives of men.  At the same instant there was a shouting of “Heh! heh! heh!” from behind, and somebody roared, “Let the guns get through!” Looking back, I saw the rear companies split suddenly in two and hurl themselves down on either side into the ditch, while six cream-coloured horses, galloping two and two with their bellies to the ground, came thundering through the gap with a fine twelve-pound gun whirling and creaking behind them.  Behind were another, and another, four-and-twenty in all, flying past us with such a din and clatter, the blue-coated men clinging on to the gun and the tumbrils, the drivers cursing and cracking their whips, the manes flying, the mops and buckets clanking, and the whole air filled with the heavy rumble and the jingling of chains.  There was a roar from the ditches, and a shout from the gunners, and we saw a rolling grey cloud before us, with a score of busbies breaking through the shadow.  Then we closed up again, while the growling ahead of us grew louder and deeper than ever.

“There’s three batteries there,” said the sergeant.  “There’s Bull’s and Webber Smith’s, but the other is new.  There’s some more on ahead of us, for here is the track of a nine-pounder, and the others were all twelves.  Choose a twelve if you want to get hit; for a nine mashes you up, but a twelve snaps you like a carrot.”  And then he went on to tell about the dreadful wounds that he had seen, until my blood ran like iced water in my veins, and you might have rubbed all our faces in pipeclay and we should have been no whiter.  “Aye, you’ll look sicklier yet, when you get a hatful of grape into your tripes,” said he.

And then, as I saw some of the old soldiers laughing, I began to understand that this man was trying to frighten us; so I began to laugh also, and the others as well, but it was not a very hearty laugh either.

The sun was almost above us when we stopped at a little place called Hal, where there is an old pump from which I drew and drank a shako full of water—­and never did a mug of Scotch ale taste as sweet.  More guns passed us here, and Vivian’s Hussars, three regiments of them, smart men with bonny brown horses, a treat to the eye.  The noise of the cannons was louder than ever now, and it tingled through my nerves just as it had done years before, when, with Edie by my side, I had seen the merchant-ship fight with the privateers.  It was so loud now that it seemed to me that the battle must be going on just beyond the nearest wood, but my friend the sergeant knew better.

“It’s twelve to fifteen mile off,” said he.  “You may be sure the general knows we are not wanted, or we should not be resting here at Hal.”