"What the devil's this now?" he rapped out. "That is one of Sir
Robert Craufurd's aides."

He turned and went quickly to the door. He opened it as rapid
steps approached along the passage, accompanied by the jingle of
spurs and the clatter of sabretache and trailing sabre. Colonel
Grant appeared, followed by a young officer of Light Dragoons who
was powdered from head to foot with dust. The youth - he was
little more - lurched forward wearily, yet at sight of Wellington
he braced himself to attention and saluted.

"You appear to have ridden hard, sir," the Commander greeted him.

"From Almeida in forty-seven hours, my lord," was the answer.
"With these from Sir Robert." And he proffered a sealed letter.

"What is your name?" Wellington inquired, as he took the package.

"Hamilton, my lord," was the answer; "Hamilton of the Sixteenth,
aide-de-camp to Sir Robert Craufurd."

Wellington nodded. "That was great horsemanship, Mr. Hamilton,"
he commended him; and a faint tinge in the lad's haggard cheeks
responded to that rare praise.

"The urgency was great, my lord," replied Mr. Hamilton.

"The French columns are in movement. Ney and Junot advanced to
the investment of Ciudad Rodrigo on the first of the month."