13 June; Spoils

"...Wonder who it is." Samuel glanced at the red as well now. "Think it's anybody we know?" It was a far fetched idea, but there was atleast a slight possibility of it being so. If it was not, oh well. If they were really deserters, and had not been French prisoners before hand...they were perhaps more fortunate dead now.

"Check if he's all dead too, maybe."

It probably wasn't any man they knew but it was a damned unfortunate way to go.

"He's dead," McIntyre said. This was not at all the first time he'd seen men lying in that way.

"Ah." Samuel decided that if McIntyre said he was, then the man just was. He straightened up after stuffing most of the remaining things into his knapsack and some into his breadbag.

"Daft of the cavalry to go two men strong out here." He murmured and straightened.

At that, the Irishman simply shrugged. "Maybe they was on picquet. Who knows?"

He had collected and stowed away everything he wished to take, and was looking around for Corporal Hodge. By the sound of it, Captain Alder and the rest of the company were on their way back.

Making sure all was stashed, Hollamby made a final run to the spot where he had seen the other knapsack fall. He was kneeling in the bush, tugging at the contents with some great vigour and speed. At least he was in part concealed by the low vegetation. But his red coat still stood out quite glaringly obvious from the rest.

Not really taking much of a glance at what he was stuffing where, except that it was not something really useless - this landed outside - he had his 'to be sold' items ready with those he meant to keep.

Then he heard and partiall saw the returning party. As if doing his trousers up, he shuffled out of the bush, and bundled over to McIntyre and the rest of the gathering men, who now appeared quite innocent of what they have been doing just moments before.

A command from Corporal Hodge had the stragglers quickening their step to fall in, then the company came tramping toward them.

"Fall your lads in, Corporal," the captain called, clearly not fussed about halting the column for them.

It must have been an unsuccessful hunt, McIntyre thought. For the captain, anyway. The same didn't hold true at all for Hodge and his lads.

Samuel hurried back, falling in easily with the rest. Excellent day this was. From thinking it would be yet another day without much to look forward to, they now had quite a few things, they could use or sell on for something they would have wanted.

He grinned, then steadied himself into the usual, serious expression.

Now what, McIntyre thought, was he going to serve with these sausages? He was entirely out of bread and there was only a little cheese left. It was possible to buy more bread from one of the remaining camp sutlers, maybe, but prices would be higher than he'd like. An egg or two would be perfect but those were even more expensive.

The pondering of how to prepare his prizes occupied his mind for most of the march back up to the 33rd's camp. McIntyre only returned to immediate reality when Captain Alder ordered the short column to a halt.

"Corporal Hodge," the captain called. "Form a detail of ten men and inspect them and their arms. You will be returning to the picquet line. A burial is in order there, I believe."

Poor Hodge, McIntyre thought with an internal grin. He would be excused that duty himself by virtue of his position. Small mercies!