25th May Coming early

"It is." He smiled. It seemed that no matter what the chick might turn out to be, its future wasn't exactly sealed in one way or the other. Why he felt so protective of the bird, when it was but an animal, that if he saw any other chicken, he'd probably have wrung its neck and brought it to the pot, but he decided that the chick was different. It was his responsibility and it was as his transfer to the rifles. Or perhaps due to it being at nearly the time of the transfer that it felt to be similar. A great change.

He looked at Cotton as he saw Newbury advance. He wasn't sure whom he was to follow or whom he'd be set to be the third part of the 'pair. "Learnin' time!" He said excitedly, and all mud that clung to his trousers, his coat or the rest of him, all the water that moistened his coat, was forgotten.

"How'd I get lumbered with this big beast?" Cotton said, looking at the horse with a slightly sour expression. "Can't be in two places at once, after all, bother it." The horse merely tossed its head and whickered at him. "Well, you ain't no help, you ain't," he said.

"You ain't coming, Gabe?" Pye turned to look at the rifleman and at the horse which seemed quite happy to remain with the riflemen. Hopefully it wasn't the green of their uniforms which drew his attention and inspired his affection. Sure looked like a fine horse even if it would probably be more trouble than it was worth!

"Oh, I'll be comin'. Right after I find someone to look after this here animal," Cotton returned, and then saw Jestel heading back. Hopefully, he wouldn't mind looking after the horse for a bit while they were on the march; it wasn't as though it'd be distracting him from his own duties, after all.

Technically, Cotton was supposed to join him with the baggage, seeing as he was the Captain's batman (as Jestel was Mister Brady's batman) but when he'd been taken into Vickery's service Cotton had stated, as firmly as he knew how, that he didn't intend to loiter with the baggage if it could be helped. It seemed to work out all right; Jestel hadn't protested at being left to look after the Captain's mule as well as Mister Brady's.

He might protest at being lumbered with a horse as well, though. He merely shrugged as Cotton asked, and held his hand out for the reins. Cotton smiled. "I 'preciate it, really I do," he said, which only earned him a shrug as the other Rifleman turned to lead his new charge back down the column of marching men.

"All right, Zack?" Cotton said. "You'm with me an' Newbury here, goin' scoutin'." He hadn't missed the Captain's call for volunteers to scout ahead, and indicated that he and Newbury would go, if Pye could tag along.

Vickery merely raised an eyebrow. "You take care, then. I don't want have to tell Maggie that some Frog managed to put a bullet in you."

"O' course I will, sir. Come on Joe, Zack. This way."

Newbury hardly needed to be told twice. He was keen to make up for the disaster that had come about the last time he'd been out front scouting.

"Long's there's no rabbits out here," he muttered, unslinging his rifle to carry it in the crook of his elbow.

Pye made an abrupt salute to the captain and then hurried after Cotton, his step light though fairly careful not to skip and slip. He was glad to find that the terrain, though as unpleasant and rugged as before, caused him little problem. Sure there was slushing and there was a slippery sort of feel to the ground, but his steps were sure and confident and far from appearing as though he walked on egg shells. "Ma'be we could tell 'em to wait?" By them he had meant the rabbits.

He grinned. He saw the horse leave with a new master at its side. The animal didn't look as stubborn to lead or walk in a certain direction now, but tagged along peacefully, perhaps hoping for something more nurturing than the type of food it had found on its own.

"A'right." He did look more serious, attentive as well as curious. He was silent and alert even now, though the French were probably still atleast at an hour's distance if not more, or less.

He saw how Newbury has shifted his rifle, and so mimicked his motion with his own. The rifle still rested at an angle enough that any rain or water from the trees, would not enter it down its barrel.

"You leave 'em to me... though snares take more time than we've got. I'll set some tonight an' see if we can't catch summat for the pot," Cotton said, shifting his own rifle to carry it in the ready position. "Footin's a bit slippy hereabouts in this weather, so you want to be careful." He adjusted his shako a little, though it didn't help stop water getting down his neck.

"Ain't me footin' I'm worried for." But Newbury nodded anyway and took care where his feet went. Any time other than now, he could slip or take a fall. Any time when they weren't tracking a runaway gang of Frogs.

"There was... how many of 'em?" He asked after awhile, his brow furrowing.

Pye carefully moved over a more slippery part of the path and slid his shoes against the pebbles that came next, to dislodge some of the caked, wet earth. Some of it did fall away, and more as he did the same with his other foot. A few smaller stones hitched a hike for a few steps, but finally they to came away.

"Few.." He said, lifting his gaze up to gaze forward and to their left. Nothing there. There was a shuffling to their right, which ended up being a small rodent of some sort, running of at the sight of them. A bird above sat on a branch and sifted through its wet feathers, shaking and puffing up its plumage before it dragged another one of the long soft lines through its beak. "Some..." Pye added. Wasn't an army of them so close, that's what he thought, not by how very few tracks were disappearing due to the amount of liquid on the ground. But he couldn't be confident in such an assumption and so instead he turned quiet again.

"'Bout ten Frogs," Cotton said in answer to Newbury's question. "Not in a very good state by what I could make out, neither - no weapons or nothin'."

They'd turned off the main road now, and the footing was easier now they didn't have to struggle along a road that was rutted from the passage of guns and baggage wagons and who knew what else.

Ten. Newbury frowned thoughtfully as he studied the ground. The rain had given them an unexpected advantage over the Frogs. Rain meant mud and mud meant tracks. Not good ones, perhaps, but enough to spot and follow.

"That way," he said, indicating the route.

The going got easier, the path was less riddled and torn up when no wagons had passed. There were faint marks in the ground which lead in the direction of the much smaller path. Some parted then joined, but for the most part they walked close together. They walked as soldiers, even if the tired sort, the exhausted one, they walked together in some sort of order or so the marks suggested.

A good deal further ahead they would've stopped, and a few stones would've been seen upturned, some ferns broken up, and some other native plant life bothered by a hand of man. The trees around them were for the most part silent. Since the weather wasn't all that pleasant, the animals might have decided to go into hiding till the weather improved or atleast till it was their time to hunt, eat or explore.

"..Ten's not many." Pye murmured gazing at the two riflemen. "...well.. they'll be eleven men.. with the prisoner." He'd heard that. "N' he's a soldier too, isn't he? Just on our side."

"They prob'ly took his sword off him, so one of 'em's got that. Don't know that any of 'em has a musket, an' if they do, they prob'ly don't have any ammunition," Cotton said, looking at the signs. "They ain't tryin' so hard to lose theirselves, are they?"

"No, they ain't," Newbury agreed, his eyes following the slightly-winding trail. "Up to them trees."

The Frogs might be tired, but they were alert enough to be careful where they stepped. Irksome bastards.

"..Why'd they carry a musket if they can't shoot it?" Pye inquired. "Additional weight that.. jus' hinders, if you'd be tired." He knew it was heavy, mind he didn't think that he was making any sense. It was just a thought of a lad who'd try to think what he'd do, not that he'd ever leave his rifle behind now.

"..Did the Portuguese man say anything more? "He looked up. after the broken ferns, the path continued again. The marks seemed a bit heavier, though the footsteps were now more winding towards the areas where there were more pebbles, where they would not be as easy to be picked up and even the areas thick only with earth seemed a bit fewer.

When the path began to climb , stones , slick and licked round, had been washed so that only faint traces of mud could be seen where filthy shoes had stepped.

"Well, if they got a bayonet to put on the end of it, it's still dangerous. And I don't want to get hit round the head by the butt of a musket eve if you don't mind it," Cotton retorted, looking at the mess of footprints that led towards the clump of trees.

"Here, hold on a minute," he said. "They ain't goin' right there, are they?" He pointed to an area of stony ground where he could see that some pebbles had been disturbed recently, with traces of mud left behind on them. "They seem to be goin' at it cater-wise, not straight, if you see what I mean."

A frown touched Newbury's brow. "Maybe they split up?" He suggested, giving the ground a more careful survey. Or maybe they'd expected to meet somebody else in the trees and had circled around to make sure their approach was a safe one.

Pye observed the exchange of information and thoughts between the two riflemen. The tracks seemed to always tell a story, be it at home, with the friends, one's own army and as well that of the enemy. Here they seemed to say that their opponents had taken a detour. Had gone about and then up the hill. Could they have expected to see the tail of their own army, or did they hope for it. The grounds higher were clearer of trees and so it was both a benefit and a curse to one threading along such a path. They could see and could be seen. Did they worry about this, when they took the said path?

"Look here!" The ground had been more heavily disturbed in the area to which the lad pointed. It almost seemed as if somebody had slipped and forced the rocks beneath him to shift forward. There was a bit of cloth further up. A small tiny bit, but the colour was that of a French uniform, surely.

Still no sign of the enemy, there was a small bit of water running along the path much further down. On the left side the bank, the river or somethng similar, bigger now that it was filled with water anyway. And much further, if one strained the eye, there could even have seemed to be something less natural.

"You got a good eye there, Pye," Cotton said. "Jus' come back here afore goin' off after that, though, an' I'll show you what I seen, too. It's the best way of learnin' all this, see."

"Aye." His cheeks coloured a bit, matching his bright red collar as he hurried from the spot he had wandered, lured there by his curiousity. He had wanted to see what felt out of place and hadn't even noticed when he'd made a bit of distance between himself and the riflemen. Skiding across the pebble covered tracks, letting loose a few in his wake he stopped beside Cotton, looking more than just guiltily at him.
"Sorry." He hesitated. "Didn't mean ter stray.."

"You didn't. I just wanted to show you how I know they ain't made right for them trees." He knelt to point at the pebbles. "See where they'm bin kicked free? That ain't where they usually bin, 'cause there's all dirt on one side of 'em, where they've bin in the ground a bit. An' these blades o' grass, they've all bin bent down the same way, which is the way them Frogs went." He grinned and stood up, wiping his hand on his trousers. "No need to look guilty like that, mate. You ain't in trouble."

Newbury paid no mind to the other two, such was his focus on the trail. The Frenchmen had stopped being careful with their movement, which made him cautious. Maybe they didn't fear pursuit any longer? He paused and listened, but the only sound was the soft patter of rain on his shako.

"Seems a bit too plain," he muttered, glancing down at the upset ground.

Pye looked gratefully at Cotton, and nodded. "Sorry jus'.. used ter.... to... to.." He glanced at the path with a smile and at the track that was explained to him. Every word he made sure to remember for a later time, so that he could see the marks on the floor with the same eyes as Cotton.

"Maybe they were just clumsy?" Pye murmured then and looked towards Newbury. "...Will they have stopped?" He then added. "..like us, to eat. They could've needed a rest too."

"Does, a bit. But mebbe they don't know how close we are to 'em... or that we can track 'em even in this mucky weather," Cotton said in response to Newbury. He shrugged. "Dunno why they ain't with the rest of their army up ahead on the road. Prob'ly thought we wouldn't know anythin' bout 'em comin' this way, so they ain't got any reason to want to hide their tracks. It's just luck we did get put onto this trail, arter all, ain't it."

Their quarry could have paused for a rest, but somehow Newbury doubted it. If this little band of Frogs hadn't caught up with the rest of the fleeing army, there was probably a good reason for it.

"Aye," he replied. "Luck."

He shrugged, his eyes following the track left for them by the Frogs. Up past this loose spot of pebbles and back to solid dirt. A splash of red, almost invisible against the dark, stirred up earth.

"Least one of 'em's hurt," Newbury reported, kneeling down. That small splatter of blood and the imprint from a shoe.