27 May; Pursuing a prankster

Here was one of the greenjackets now. How fortunate. That accounted for two of them, rather handily.

"Aye," Burr replied. "Where've ye been alla this evenin'?"

"All evenin'? Talkin' with me officer, spent some time with me wife -" he did not intend to go into any detail about that, no matter how much he was quizzed on it "-bin to see me mate in there." He thought he saw the paler flash of white on the man's sleeve and added "Sar'nt," by way of caution. It wouldn't do to get an NCO riled at you, after all.

With his officer. Burr would have to defer to one of his own officers on that count, since he would never dare interrogate another regiment's officer.

"What of the third one's back here wi' ye?"

"Saw him at the same fire I'm sharin' with me wife. Think he's got his head down there. Else he'll be visitin' with folks in the 33rd - only joined recently from them, after all." He shrugged. "What's all this in aid of anyhow, Sar'nt? If I can ask." People didn't come asking after folks in that sort of manner without there being some real trouble in store, after all.

The fellow from the Third Guards made a noise that sounded like a disgusted scoff. Burr pretended not to notice, though he wondered privately what had prompted the grunt.

"There's been an attack on a provost," Burr replied. "Some lad slipped through the surgeon's tent earlier this evenin'."

Who the hell would have been so stupid as to do that? Especially with Captain Vickery intent on convening a court martial against those provosts. "Can't help, sorry. Reckon there's plenty of folks here who'd have a grudge against 'em, though."

The surgeon's tent. That was probably the one who'd got run through with Newbury's sword earlier. And that couldn't be good news for any of the Riflemen.

Burr was almost tempted to smirk. Of course not. "Don't s'pose ye'll point out that third fella?" He asked. "Need to have a word with yer crippled mate, too."

If Pye had had anything to do with this latest mess, Cotton was going to drag him behind a tree and teach him to keep his hands to himself. "Sure," he said, keeping his misgivings to himself. "Though, you'm closer to the wagon now. Hadn't you best see Newbury while you'm here? If the surgeon'll let you, anyhow - got himself done in prop'ly he did. Cracked ribs an' all."

"What is the meaning of all this?" A harsh voice demanded, belonging to Finch, the surgeon's mate who was appearing on the scene with a freshly-lit lantern. One of the Inniskillings had fetched him from his bedroll, since Mister Todd was still attending to the provost in question.

"I gotta speak to the fella's in yon wagon," Burr explained evenly. " 'Bout a provost that's been - "

Finch's glare was obvious even in the dim lantern light. "Out of the question. No. That man is not to be disturbed until tomorrow, at the earliest. Off with you!"

Judd let Burr and the rest of the lads go on, and drew Belcher to one side. "Ya really know this dog?" he asked. "Or ya wanna just go back to our fires?"

Belcher offered a resigned shrug. "He'd only come an' find us again. Get a dog to sniff us out. Come on, they're off this way."

Following behind, Judd asked, "What sort o' dog is it? It ain't all dogs that can foller a trail, after all. Some sort o' hound I hopes?" He frowned for a moment. "What'd we use to get it to foller the scent anyway? Got nothin' belongin' to the culprit." He'd not thought of what the man had left on Lambert, yet.

"Do I look like an expert in dogs?" Belcher grumbled. "All's I said was it knows how to sniff a rabbit. What more do you need? Come on."

Judd grumbled to himself, again. He didn't want to traipse all the way over to the cavalry's encampment on what might turn out to be just another wild-goose chase like Burr's. But he trudged along behind Belcher, regardless.

After a ridiculous amount of searching, they finally found themselves in the hussars' bivouac where the dog was supposed to be located. Belcher asked one of the men to show them the way to "that horseleech what's got a little dog" and they were led to Matthew Broderick's tent.

Judd stood back and let Belcher lead the way; he had no wish to exert himself overmuch in this enterprise.

Matthew looked up in surprise as his small campsite was invaded by a hussar - not so unusual - but the man was followed by two men in red coats. Once in a while, someone from another regiment would come to see him, like Rifleman Pye recently. But not that often, and these two looked like private soldiers. He set down the mustard plaster he had been mixing up, and inquired, "Can I help you?"

"Evenin', mister - sir," Belcher began awkwardly. "We've come to see if - that's if it's you whose got it - only I seen you with it sometimes, that little dog what sniffs rabbits?"

"Lavinia?" Matthew snapped his fingers, and the little dog came darting out from under the wagon, to sit down obediently next to him; his fingers scratched idly behind her ears, and she leaned into his hand like a cat while her tail thumped the ground. Whatever did they want with Lavinia? "I suppose you mean her? Why?"

Belcher looked at Judd, but the man was no help at all. "Well sir, we've sort of... found a trail what needs sniffin' out, see. And Sergeant Burr," (better to lay the blame with the sergeant) "thought as a dog might be of use. Sir."

"Sergeant Burr?" repeated Matthew, befuddled. "A trail? You want to...borrow Lavinia to go hunting?" What, foxes? Rabbits? What did they mean? "What are you looking for?" And who was Sergeant Burr, for that matter? The man spoke the name as if Matthew ought to know it for some reason.

Judd was being silent for once, leaving Belcher to do all the talking. It made him uncomfortable. "Someone's hurt a provost, sir, a man what was injured already and lyin' in a surgeon's tent, and Sergeant Burr wants to find them as done it, sir." He looked at Judd for affirmation.

"Oh," said Matthew, when presented with this piece of information. He considered it quietly, for a moment. Apparently the assailant had left some sort of a trail - according to this fellow, who'd mentioned that they'd found one. They must not have done very well at following it, if they needed a dog now. It sounded as if it was a serious matter, though. Matthew didn't believe in kicking a man when he was down - and the provosts might be widely disliked, but it seemed to him that they performed a very necessary duty.

"Well," he said after a long pause, "I suppose if you think Lavinia may be useful, you may borrow her."

Judd remained resolutely silent, returning Belcher's look with a mulish set to his jaw. He wasn't going to get between an officer and Sergeant Burr, even if the veterinarian seemed to be agreeable about the whole idea.

"Thankee, sir!" Belcher said with a grin and a salute. Then he had another thought. "Er, I don't suppose, sir, you'd be willing to come along and show him - or her - what to do?"

'Show her what to do' - Matthew could not help grinning to himself, amused at the picture that the redcoat's words had suggested, even though he knew the lad hadn't meant any such thing. More out of curiosity to poke his nose into the case than any real expectation of being needed, he agreed. "Sure." Belcher had managed to pique his interest. And besides, Lavvie might not behave well for someone else.

He stood up, gesturing to Belcher, who he'd pegged as the one in charge between these two. "Lay on, MacDuff!"