he had ever had to make in his life, adding, "I would not be surprised
if something came of it."

"I have not a doubt," answered Tom, the groom, in a confident tone,
"that the colonel has found out some new way to jockey the French, and
is about to lay it before Sir Rowland Hill, or, perhaps my Lord
Wellington himself."

Being men of leisure, they were still busy discussing their master's
affairs, and had begun to wonder if he had forgotten that it was time
to go to dinner, when L'Isle called for his man; but it was only to
bid him send the groom up to him.

With an obedient start, Tom hastened up stairs. In a few minutes, he
came down with an exceedingly neatly folded despatch in his hand. He
seemed to have gained in that short interval no little accession of
importance. He had quite sunk the groom, and strode into the room with
the air of an ambassador.

"Now, my lads, without even stopping to wet my whistle," said he, "I
will but sharpen my spurs, saddle my horse, and then--"

"What then?" asked his comrades.

"I will ride off on my important mission."

"Were you right?" asked L'Isle's gentleman. "Is that for Sir Rowland
Hill?"

"Sir Rowland," answered Tom, carelessly, "is not the most considerable