"What's that thing?" asked the officer sternly.
I replied that obviously it was a barricade.
"Who put it there?" he asked peremptorily, as if I were to blame.
I told him that the English did.
"When?"
I felt as if I were being rather severely cross-examined, but I answered
as civilly as I could, "The night before the battle."
He looked at me for the first time--and softened his tone a bit--my
white hair and beastly accent, I suppose--as he asked:
"What is it for?"
I told him it was to prevent a detachment of Uhlans from coming up the
hill. He hesitated a moment; then asked if it served any purpose now.
I might have told him that the Uhlans were still here, but I didn't, I
simply said that I did not know that it did. "Cut it down!" he ordered,
and in a moment it was cut on one end and swung round against the bank
and the regiment marched on.
It was just after that that I discovered the explanation of what had
happened to my Irish scout on Saturday. An exhausted soldier was in
need of a stimulant, and one of his comrades, who was supporting him,
asked me if I had anything. I had nothing but the bottle out of which
the Irish scout had drunk.
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