The regiment promptly executed the manoeuvre indicated, and gained the rising ground.  The view thence inland was more extended, and at no great distance a road crossed, along which was seen a long line of native carts, toiling painfully, and escorted by a few of the enemy’s horse.

“We must have those carts.”  The speaker was a staff-officer, the quartermaster-general, an eagle-eyed, decisive-speaking, short, slender man, who was riding a splendid charger, which he sat to perfection.  “Colonel Blythe! send forward your right company at the double, and capture them.”

“My brigadier ordered me not to advance,” replied the old colonel, rather stolidly.

“Do as I tell you; I will take the responsibility.  But look sharp!”

Already, no doubt under orders from the escort, the drivers were unharnessing their teams, with the idea of making off with the cattle.  The skirmishers of the Royal Picts advanced quickly within range, and opened fire—­the first shots these upon Russian soil—­and some of them took effect.  The carts were abandoned, and speedily changed masters.

“We shall want those carts,” said old Hyde, abruptly, to his friend the sergeant-major.  They had watched this little episode together.

“Yes, I suppose they will come in useful.”

“I should think so.  Are you aware that this fine force of ours is quite without transport?  At least, I have seen none.  Do you know what that means?”

“That we shall have to be our own beasts of burden,” said McKay, laughing, as he touched his havresack.  It was comfortably lined with biscuit and cold salt pork—­three days’ rations, and the only food that he or his comrades were likely to get for some time.

“I’m not afraid of roughing it,” said the old soldier.  “I have done that often enough.  We have got our greatcoats and blankets, and I daresay we shan’t hurt; but I have seen something of campaigning, and I tell you honestly I don’t like the way in which we have started on this job.”

“What an inveterate old grumbler you are, Hyde!  Besides, what right have you to criticise the general and his plans?”

“We have entered into this business a great deal too lightly, I am quite convinced of that,” said Hyde, positively.  “There has been no sufficient preparation.”

“Nonsense, man!  They have been months getting the expedition ready.”

“And still it is wanting in the most necessary things.  It has to trust to luck for its transport,” and the old sergeant pointed with his thumb to the captured carts.  “We may, perhaps, get as many more; but, even then, there won’t be enough to supply us with food if we go much further inland; we may never see our knapsacks again, or our tents.”

“We shan’t want them; it won’t do us any harm to sleep in the open.  Napoleon always said that the bivouac was the finest training for troops.”

“You will be glad enough of shelter, sergeant-major, before to-night’s out, mark my words!  The French are better off than we are; they have got everything to their hands—­their shelter-tents, knapsacks, and all.  They understand campaigning; I think we have forgotten the art.”