25th May Coming early

Well. That was interesting. Newbury lifted his shako off to run his hand over his damp hair and considered that. "Cap'n Hunter's been carried off by the Frogs. Now that's somethin' I never thought to hear. Wouldn't mind it so much, if he weren't a staff officer." He grinned. "Reckon that means a bit of trackin', don't it?"

"Reckon so. Though it might be hard goin' with this rain. We oughta find summat, anyhow." Cotton adjusted his own shako and nudged Pye. "We'll show you summat else us Riflemen have to know. Well, 'sides lightin' a fire in the wet, that is. I don't reckon it'll have stopped, time we pitch camp."

"There isn't no way to light a fire in the wet." Pye answered unsure if Cotton was teasing him or if he really meant that the riflemen did so, and while he so thought, he caught his canteen in mid air, where it had gone, after the nudge knocked it from his rather loose grip. A bit of water had spilled, but so very little that he needed not worry about not having enough till the end of the march. If the march it would be. He'd been listening silently and curiously, wondering if they would really head off to seek the man that Cotton mentioned, and the French men who took him.

"Are we really going?" He glanced from Cotton to Newbury and back.

"Hope so," Newbury grunted. He didn't relish the idea of resuming the mind-numbing march. Besides which, he hadn't had any chance to do some proper tracking in ages, it felt like. He was probably getting rusty.

"Just don't go rabbit-huntin' this time, mate," Cotton said, hiding a smile by looking down at the lock of his rifle. He looked up at Pye a moment later. "'Course we light fires in the wet - can't have us a cup o' tea if we don't, can we? An' jus' imagine a Comp'ny of Riflemen without a cup o' tea." He shook his head. "Don't bear thinkin' about, that don't."

Pye dropped his gaze then, from under his hat he looked up at Newbury, wondering if he would react to Cotton's jab at all. He forced his own lips to do nought but a small curve of a smile, even if he could barely contain the chuckle that threatened to come at those words and the words that followed.

"Ah.. then I mus' learn ter light a fire t' way you do! For the sake of ..of every rifleman out there." He looked more serious as he turned to glance at the cottage, noticing the face of the girl in the window. "... How will we ever find them? The Frogs."

His face flushed hot and he dropped his gaze to the sling of his rifle. No, no rabbit-hunting for him, not when he was near the rest of the company.

"We'll find 'em by followin' 'em," he replied after a moment. "They prob'ly ain't that far ahead."

Cotton noticed Newbury's red face and shrugged. "Plenty of time to catch rabbits after. Wonder when I'll get time to set me snares."

It was pure chance that Vickery was walking past as he said that, and it was his turn to blush as the Captain said, "It's a good thing the Squire never knew about your snares, Cotton, or you might have enlisted into the Army earlier than you did."

"Sir!" Pye straightened as he heard Vickery speak, and saw him pass and just as he saw the back of the man, he grinned turning back to Newbury and Cotton.

"You two's redder than your collars." He held his hand over his mouth trying not to laugh. The pair of riflemen had each individually turned a nice shade of red, and the manner in which they so did, had been rather comical.

"Or mine." He tapped his own, which was the strongest red still, although now it sported a patch of brown mud on the side.

That was a fortunately-timed remark, Newbury thought, as his grin overtook the blush in his cheeks.

"Better gettin' caught with snares than runnin' from militia, sir," Newbury offered, remembering the reason for his own enlistment.

"True enough, Newbury. Although I'm sure there are days you wish you had taken your chances with the militia, rather than joining the real Army and finding yourself facing down real Frenchmen," Vickery replied.

Cotton just shrugged. "Well, sir, Squire never knew about it, an' it warn't my fault his son had took agin me, like."

Zachary listened silently then and realised he had learnt a little bit about each of the riflemen, without the need to ask at all. He smiled and drank his water from his canteen, measuring how much he could take before corking it back up for later.

Newbury's grinned broadened. "Sometimes, sir. But I figger it's better facin' down Frenchmen than it'd be get me neck stretched," he said lightly. Then he sobered somewhat and asked, "We goin' after them Frogs, sir?"

"We certainly are. They seem to have made off with Captain Hunter, who gallantly volunteered to become their prisoner if they left the three Portuguese alive. At least we know something about these French: they keep their word." He looked between the three Riflemen. "Newbury, if your side starts giving you any trouble, ;et me know. Cotton, the same with your back. Pye, just watch and learn as you've been doing."

Side, back and luckily just the need to pay attention and learn from what others were doing. The lack of such skill may have been as much of a hindrance as an insistent ache could be, if bad, though. Pye nodded quickly. "Yes, sir."

Learning to observe and to pay attention to detail, to listen and learn as much as he could from his surroundings was practiced even at that very moment, except that it was in observing Cotton and Newbury and at times Vickery. "Are we going to leave the horse here, sir?"

"Yes sir," Newbury said and tried not to touch the slight bulge of bandages under his jacket.

Cotton narrowly managed to avoid rolling his eyes. His back was fine, and even the one or two deep welts didn't bother him the way they had done the day after.

He hoped Vickery didn't want to take the horse with them; looking after one animal was bad enough, never mind with a second one in tow as well. He was a lovely creature, though, and it would be a shame to leave him behind.

"I think we'll take him with us," Vickery said. "Mister Brady might like a horse, after all."

Pye grinned. He felt Cotton would have rather if the horse stayed elsewhere but the army, it made more sense that way. Any additional animal meant it would need someone to take care of it. The more animals there were, the more work there was with them. Even if they were fairly well behaved. He looked where the horse was at present and found him standing a bit further from the house gazing in their direction.

It watched them flicking its ears back and forth. It looked to be deciding on something, and then it began to walk towards them, shaking wetness of his mane and head.

Ten minutes would soon be up, yet there was no reason not to enjoy them fully. Pye was seated comfortably. He had put his canteen away by then, and rested his pack in his lap. For the time his rifle too stood from the ground, it's barrel against his shoulder and it's bottom part neatly on the top of his shoe. Thus balanced and with a hand draped over its middle it could not fall.

The horse came closer and seemed for a moment interested in Newbury's hair. It leaned close and nudged it , snorting warm air against the ear that was closest. Its or rather his tail swished through the air and had some mud, that had been caught on it, sent flying.

"..better we don't let our coats anywhere close to that'un." Pye murmured with a grin. " He munched real merrily at yours before, Gabe." He was excited that they would go track the French soon. Another opportunity to learn the skill for it and it would certainly beat any marching, not that he'd have complained about the latter.

Horses. Newbury shook his head. Smelly, troublesome creatures, horses.

" 'Bout how far ahead are them Frogs, sir?"

"They were here this morning, and their equipment is apparently not in good repair, so I should think they're maybe four or five miles ahead of us at the most. We'll be able to come up with them pretty quickly, I should think - apparently they're tired and demoralised." He checked his watch and glanced over to Sergeant Müller. "Five minutes!"

"Sir. Does that mean the French army is... in whole no more than 5 miles ahead of us?" He looked up and pushed the nose of the inquiring horse from his hat. The horse looked impatient, though he didn't seem to hold interest in something for too long.

Four or five miles? Newbury pursed his lips thoughtfully. It was not so far at all.

"Permission to be up front trackin', sir," he said, fitting his shako back on.

"No. This group seems to have split off from the main body of the French Army for some reason, and they've taken a different path from them, which should make tracking them somewhat easier." He turned to Newbury. "Of course. But I don't want you pushing yourself too hard and making your wound worse."

The horse put its head over his shoulder and he found himself stroking its nose. "You're a beauty, aren't you?" he said. "I wonder what your name is, then."

Pye wondered with whom he'd be paired... were sided up, since it would be three people that would go ahead together and he didn't know exactly what the proper word for such a combination would be. He hoped he could go of course and Cotton did suggest that he would, else why he'd have said he would learn something new.

He looked at the horse, which looked most at peace while being petted by Vickery, and seemed to keep itself from comiting any of the earlier antics even, just for the sake of the enjoyment of the company. "Likes t' captain." He murmured timidly and grinned. "How long will it take us to catch up with them.. terms of.. time?"

Cotton did roll his eyes this time. That was all he needed - for the Captain to decide he was going to keep the dratted animal.

"Four, five mile... an' if they'm slower than the rest of the Frog army, an' we'm faster than our redcoats, we could be up to 'em in an hour or so. Less, if they'm wore out like the Captain said they was."