of Portugal, their line of march defined by an unbroken trail of
carcasses, until the tattered remnants of that once splendid army
found shelter across the Coira. Beyond this Wellington could not
continue the pursuit for lack of means to cross the swollen river
and also because provisions were running short.

But there for the moment he might rest content, his immediate
object achieved and his stern strategy supremely vindicated.

On the heights above the yellow, turgid flood rode Wellington
with a glittering staff that included O'Moy and Murray, the
quartermaster-general. Through his telescope he surveyed with
silent satisfaction the straggling columns of the French that
were being absorbed by the evening mists from the sodden ground.

O'Moy, at his side, looked on without satisfaction. To him the
close of this phase of the campaign which had justified his
remaining in office meant the reopening of that painful matter
that had been left in suspense by circumstances since that June
day of last year at Monsanto. The resignation then refused from
motives of expediency must again be tendered and must now be
accepted.

Abruptly upon the general stillness came a sharply humming sound.
Within a yard of the spot where Wellington sat his horse a
handful of soil heaved itself up and fell in a tiny scattered shower.
Immediately elsewhere in a dozen places was the phenomenon
repeated. There was too much glitter about the staff uniforms and
vindictive French sharpshooters were finding them an attractive mark.