With Marlborough to Malplaquet by Herbert Strang;Richard Stead
page 58 of 152 (38%)
page 58 of 152 (38%)
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declaration of the old sergeant under whom he marched.
"Bide your time, my lad," the veteran would say, "you will get your full share of fighting; enough to satisfy even a fire-eater such as I can see you're going to be." One evening, to his intense delight, the lad was sent forward with a skirmishing party, a report having come in that the enemy was concealed somewhere in one of the wooded valleys of the neighbourhood. After a cautious march of three or four miles, the little company, commanded by a lieutenant of foot, dropped down into a dingle, at the bottom of which ran a stream almost everywhere hidden by the thick growth of trees. The men were startled, on turning a corner in the break-neck path, to see below them the French flag flying from what appeared to be an old mill. Scattered about were the roofs of a dozen cottages, and at the doors could be perceived a number of soldiers lolling at their ease. "The enemy, by Jove!" whispered George, who was leading in his usual eager fashion, pointing out the flag and the hamlet to the lieutenant. "Wouldn't it be a good joke to whip off their flag from that old mill, sir!" The officer laughed at the notion; he was not much more than a boy himself. "My lad," said he, "we must know how many the enemy are first." "I'll climb to the roof there, and from it I can see right down into the village and command a view of everything in it." |
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