13 June; Morning Muster

More than one man could vouch for that. It was when Newbury was brought and they were none the wiser of how that happened. Pye was there too. Was Friedrich present at the time as well? If not anywhere close, he was certainly in camp.

Were the disappearances of the two boys connected, or had each a separate reason for not being there? Schreiber glanced towards Burke.

No, that man looked alright. He could not have anything to do with the disappearance of his partner. They had not had an argument either, as much as he remembered and it was just not the sort of thing that would happen in the rifles' camp. So there had to be a better explanation of what happened. Just as one was needed for Newbury's night travel.

Vickery nodded. "Thank you, Cotton. Who was the last man to see Rottländer, please?"

The dog comes from here.




The earthy humans were over there. Right where they'd been when he'd last seen them. They were all gathered together which made it easier to get their attention. The dog slowed his run so he didn't charge straight through the forest of legs, but he saw no reason to give up his alarm-barking. If only these backwards two-leggers could understand him!

When none of the men spoke up, Edward gave a slight cough to alert Captain Vickery of his presence and said:

"He was with me until I settled out there, Sir. That was about two hours ago."

Vickery looked up as the parade was interrupted by the barking of the white dog who had taken to hanging around their camp. He frowned, and opened his mouth to say something, when Captain Torrington caught his attention. He turned his head so he could see the other officer.

"Ah. Thank you, Captain."

So where was he now?

Thick-headed humans! A couple of them looked his way, but none of them showed any great interest in him. What was wrong with them? The dog pranced around near the edge of their neat little group, pawing briefly at the air with the though that this might help get their attention.

The dog seemed persistent. He probably just wanted to play, and couldn't understand why the Riflemen were all standing there ignoring him.

He didn't think he was going to get anything else from the Riflemen. There was no point keeping them on parade; it was hardly their fault that Pye and Rottländer weren't there.

He took a breath and turned to the senior Sergeant. "Dismiss the men, Sergeant."

The NCO saluted and Vickery returned the courtesy before moving over to Torrington. "You last saw Rottländer this morning, you say? Did he seem at all... unlike himself?"

Where was he now? That thought also rang through Edward's head.

He wasn't sure of the procedure Captain Vickery wanted to follow now, but he deemed it not the right time to ask informational questions. Turning to retire once more to a place outside the actual parade square, he kept on hand and alert nevertheless.

When the Captain addressed him, he replied without hesitation.

"No, he seemed quite alright and happy. I don't think he had planned anything untowards then." He looked down and cleared his throat. "I don't think that he really deserted, Sir. Might he have become involved in another kind of trouble?"

"I must admit that I concur, Captain. Rottländer is not the sort to desert." Another sort of trouble might well explain it, though.

He was growing quite tired of his men getting into scrapes, and wondered if they could possibly get through a week, just one week, without anyone getting in some form of trouble or another.

"I think the pressing thing at the moment is to find him, and Pye. The two are of an age, and with two men missing, it seems logical to presume they are together somewhere."

This was hopeless. The earthy humans were dispersing now, wandering off in various directions and most paying him no mind. Were they really this brainless?

The dog yapped, irritated, and put his nose to the ground. The Angry Human lived here. He knew that. So all he had to do was find that human's things and then he would get their attention!

Where was it where was it where was... there. He circled the block of leather twice before pawing at it. Then, thinking he detected something that smelled suspiciously familiar, thrust his nose at the block. It was fastened shut. Of all the...! Right. There was only one thing for it now.

He took a good hold on the folded heap of wool that lay atop the leather block and, biting carefully down on it, made a break for the edge of the camp.

Cotton had returned to his own fire, with the dog following him. The dog was sniffing around Pye's pack.

"Get away from that, you," he said. The dog ignored him, taking hold of the blanket fastened to the top and tugging at it, pulling it with him as he made away.

"Hey - hey! Drop that!!" he called, making a futile attempt to get the blanket back. He sighed and started running after the dog. "You let that alone, you!"

"Most likely. I think Rottländer took his rifle along, which would rule out the ladies, I guess. Perhaps they wanted to hunt? Or heroically spy on the French on their own?"

Edward unobtrusivly turned towards the officers' tents, testing whether Captain Vickery would be willing to walk on. He wanted to get into the saddle and start a search; more concerned than he cared to admit by Vickery's admission that he neither had any explanation ready nor thought desertation likely, Edward realized that he already would find his mornings rather lacking without Freddie's whirlwind presence.

"Rottländer took his rifle?" Had he taken anything else, more to the point. If he had deserted, he would have taken his pack, too.

He began to say something, when his attention was caught by a yell from Cotton.

"I hope that is all it is, Captain. Although a hunt would sit better with me than spying out the French, especially with two of them." And neither of them was a particularly good shot, yet, which only made things worse.

When the Captain looked in Cotton's direction, Edward followed his gaze.

"Perhaps rifleman Cotton has found them drunk in some tent", he said, sounding not very hopeful. All hope died when he saw Cotton running towards the edge of the camp. That surely didn't bode well.

He glanced at Vickery.

"Horses?"

Vickery nodded briefly. "Horses." Did Cotton have his rifle with him? He thought so.

He turned and called the nearest NCO over to him, telling him to get a party of men together.

Whatever was going on, he did not wish to be caught off-guard if he could help it.

Edward turned on his heel and strode quickly towards where the horses were tethered. Thank God general orders required staff horses to be ready at all times. And obviously Rottländer had saddled up Trueno before disappearing.

Sending a soldier running for his pistol holster, he swung himself onto his horse, took the reins of the Captain's mount and trotted back to Vickery's side.

"Thank you," Vickery said, and swung into the saddle, turning Brandy to follow Cotton, who was still running after the dog.

Vickery was conscious that this whole mess did not present him and his Company in the best light as far as the Engineer officer was concerned.

That had done it! About time. The dog headed back the way he'd come, toward where the Angry Human and the Bad One were. They had better follow him the whole way, though.

"What the devil d'you think you'm playin' at, you dratted dog?" Cotton muttered, trying to get his breath. He tightened his grip on his rifle - he hadn't even had a chance to put it down before the animal had gone for Pye's pack.

He could hear horses coming up behind him and glanced back only long enough to see that Vickery and the Engineer officer were following him.

Bother it all! What a total mess - and why were they following him when all he was trying to do was rescue Pye's property?

As the soldier he had sent for his pistols had yet to reappear, Edward though of another useful thing to do. Pulling his glass out of his belt, he turned it to the horizon to find out what Cotton might have spotted. When he saw what it was, he blinked, frowned, and then snatched the holster out of the hand of the startled soldier who hadn't even stopped running yet.

Galloping to Vickery's side, he held the glass out to him: "We appear to be following a canine thief!"

The dog wasn't just running, was it? Cotton was sure he'd caught sight of footprints in the dust. He came to a stop and paused to look at the ground.

Definitely footprints. Two sets, from what he could make out. He measured one against his own shoe, and then measured the stride. Could it be the two Riflemen who'd made them?

"All right, dog, you'd better have this right," he said grimly, reaching for a cartridge to begin loading his rifle. "This'd better not be a wild goose chase, that's all I'm a-sayin'!"

He slowed down to glance back after some distance and saw that the human chasing him had stopped. What was he doing? The dog halted as well, the blanket dangling from his mouth. Maybe the human was finally understanding what the dog had been trying to do. Feeling hopeful that this was the case, he wagged his tail.

"All right, I'm comin'," Cotton said, returning the ramrod after ramming down the powder and ball. The officers were still following him, and he wa heartened to see a group of Riflemen following, too.

He turned back to his study of the trail. It did look hopeful - neither of the two had taken much trouble to hide their footprints.

"All right, dog, lead on," he said, straightening. He shook his head. The animal looked almost as though it understood him. Must be a trick of the light, he thought.

There were two Things with Hard Feet coming after them, with several other earthy humans too. It was the Things with the Hard Feet that worried him, though, and he turned quickly about to dash off again. Those big beasts were dangerous to normal-sized animals like him.

To run was undignified, but a brisk marching pace settled the difference well enough in Blackwood's mind. His batman had come stumbling into his tent, stammering nearly incomprehensibly about the Rifles. Only with an effort had Blackwood calmed the man down enough to be understood. Once he caught the bulk of Darling's news, however, he snapped out an order for Sergeant Northcut to muster a dozen men at once. Trust the Rifles to get up to something!

He and his little detachment were now following the swifter-footed Riflemen toward the picquet line. Now what, Blackwood wondered in surprise, was going on this far from any camp? He wished he had thought to call for his horse, but his batman probably couldn't have coped with that task. It might be asking too much of the man to have him along on this errand, in fact. They'd know once it was over.