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keep awake, and dozed off, to wake with a start and find that it was

broad daylight. Soon afterwards, to his intense satisfaction, Peter

opened his eyes. Tom bent over him. "Don't try to move, Peter; lie

quiet, old boy."

"What's the matter?" Peter asked with a puzzled look.

"You have been hit in the body, Peter, but the doctor means to get you

round in no time. Yes," he continued, seeing Peter's eyes fixed on his

bandaged shoulder, "I have had a tap too, but there's no great harm

done. There, drink some brandy-and-water, and go off to sleep again,

if you can."

The morning passed very slowly, the troops being all under arms,

expecting the renewed attack of Soult, but it came not; and when early

in the afternoon, the third brigade of the fourth division marched

into camp, they were received with general cheering. A heavy load

seemed taken off every one's heart, and they felt now that they could

fight, if fight they must, with a hope of success.

The new-comers, wearied as they were with their long forced marches,

at once took the outpost duties, and those relieved set about the duty

of collecting and bringing in all the wounded.

Next morning the joyful news came that Soult was retiring, and all

felt with a thrill of triumph that their sacrifices and efforts had

not been in vain, and that the hard-fought battle of Albuera was

forever to take its place among the great victories of the British

army.

CHAPTER XIV.

INVALIDED HOME.

Two days after the battle of Albuera, Lord Wellington himself arrived,

and from the officers of his staff Tom heard the details of the battle

of Fuentes d'Onoro, which had been fought a few days previously, and

which had been nearly as hardly contested as had Albuera itself, both

sides claiming the victory.

The next day, the bulk of Beresford's army returned to the

neighborhood of Badajos, which they again invested, while a long

convoy of wounded started for Lisbon. The Scudamores accompanied it

as far as Campo Major, where a large hospital had been prepared for

those too ill to bear the journey. Peter was still unconscious. Fever

had set in upon the day after the battle, and for three weeks he lay

between life and death. Tom's arm was mending very slowly, and he

would have had hard work indeed in nursing Peter had it not been for

the arrival of unexpected assistance. A large villa had been taken

close to the main hospital for the use of officers, and one of the

rooms was allotted to the Scudamores.

Upon the evening of the second day after their arrival, Tom was

sitting by Peter's bedside, when, after a preliminary tap, the door

opened, and to Tom's perfect amazement Sambo entered. The negro

hurried forward, threw himself on his knees, seized Tom's hand and

kissed it passionately, and then looking at the thin and fever-flushed

face of Peter, he hid his face in his hands and sobbed unrestrainedly.

"Hush, Sam, hush," Tom said soothingly. "My poor fellow, why, where

have you come from? I thought you were a prisoner with the French."

"I knew how it would be, Massa Tom," the black said, paying no

attention to the questions. "First thing Sam said to himself when he

got among French fellows, 'Dere, dose young gentlemen dey get into

all sorts of danger widout Sam, sartin sure dey get hurt widout Sam

to look after dem.' Dat idea troubled Sam berry much, took away Sam's

sleep altogether."

"Well it turned out so, as you see, Sam," Tom said with a smile, "but

tell me how did you get away? But first give me some lemonade out of

that jug, then you can tell me all about it."

"Why, Massa Tom," Sam said, when he had complied with the request,

"you didn't think dat dis chile was going to stop prisoner with dose

French chaps; Sam not such a fool as dat, nohow. When dat cussed

mule--I tell you fair, Massa Tom, dis chile conclude dat riding not

such a berry easy ting after all--when dat cussed mule ran into French

camp, de soldiers dey catch him, and dey take Sam off, and den dey

jabber and laugh for all de world like great lots of monkeys. Well,

for some time Sam he didn't say nothing, all de wind shook out of his

body. Besides which he couldn't understand what dey say. Den all of

a sudden, to Sam's surprise, up came a colored soldier, and he speak

to Sam in de English tongue. 'Holla, broder, how you come here?" I

ask. 'I been cook on board English merchant ship,' he say. 'Ship she

taken by French privateer. When dey come to port dey say to me, "You

not Englishman, you hab choice, you go to prison, or you be French

soldier." Natural, I not want go prison, so I conclude be French

soldier. I daresay dey gib you choice too.' Well, massa, a wink as

good as a nod to blind hoss. So dey take me to tent, put me under

guard, and next day a French officer come dat speak English. He ask

me all sorts ob questions, and at last he ask me why I list English

soldier. So you see I had got a little lie all ready, and me tell him,

me one poor Melican negro man, cook on board Melican ship. Ship taken

by English man-ob-war. Put Sam in prison and give him choice to go as

soldier. "Den you not care about English,' de officer say, and Sam

draw hisself up and pat his chest and say, 'Me Melican citizen, me no

Britisher's slave, some day me go back States, go on board Melican

man-ob-war, me pay out dese Britishers for make Sam slave.' Den de

officer laugh, and say dat if I like I could fight dem now; and if I

prefer French uniform to French prison, me could have him. Ob course

I accep' offer, and harp an hour after me in French uniform. French

officer try to make joke ob Sam, and ask whether I like cavalry or

foot soldier. Sam say he had enuff of quadruples at present. Me remain

French soldier three weeks, den cum great battle, dey call him Fuentes

donory. Sam's regiment fight. Sam not like fire at red coats, so break

bullet off catridge, neber put him in gun. We charge right into middle

of village full of English soldiers, de bullets fly all about. Sam not

see de point ob getting kill by mistake, so he tumble down, pretend to

be dead. Presently French beaten back; when English soldier wid doctor

cum look at wounded, dey turn Sam ober, and dey say, 'Hullo, here dead

nigger.' 'Nigger yourself, John Atkins,' I say for sure enuff it's de

ole regiment--'you say dat once again me knock your head off;' me jump

up, and all de world call out, 'Hullo, why it's Sam.' Den me splain

matter, and all berry glad, cept John Atkins, and next morning me gib

him licking he member all his life, me pound him most to a squash.

Four days ago colonel send for Sam, say, 'Sam, berry bad job, bofe

Massas wounded bad, send you to nurse dem;' so dis chile come. Dat

all, Massa Tom. Here letter for you from colonel, now you read dis

letter, den you get in bed, you sleep all night, Sam watch Massa

Peter."

Greatly relieved to have his faithful servant again, and to know that

Peter would be well cared for, instead of being left in charge of the

Spanish hospital orderly, whenever weakness and pain obliged him to

lie down, Tom abandoned his place by the bedside, and prepared for a

tranquil night's rest, first reading the colonel's letter.

"We are all grieved, my dear Scudamore, at hearing that you are both

wounded, and that your brother is at present in a serious state. We

trust, however, that he will pull through. I hear that Beresford has

praised you both most highly in despatches, and that your names are

sent home for companies. I heartily congratulate you. We have had some

tough work at Fuentes d'Onoro, although nothing to what yours must

have been at Albuera, still it was hot enough in all conscience, and

we had over a hundred casualties in the regiment. Carruthers and

Manley were both slightly wounded. Jones, Anstruther, Palmer, and

Chambers were killed, and several of the others hit more or less hard.

Sam has leave to remain with you until you rejoin, which will not, I

fear, be for some little time. Every one sends kind messages. Yours

truly, J. Tritton."

Nothing could exceed the care and devotion with which Sam nursed his

two masters, and Tom had the greatest difficulty in persuading him to

lie down and get a short sleep each day while he sat by Peter's bed.

At the end of three weeks Peter took a favorable turn. His fever

abated, and he awoke to consciousness. Another fortnight and he was

sufficiently convalescent to be moved, and accordingly they started to

travel by very easy stages to Lisbon, there to take ship for England,

as the doctor ordered Tom as well as his brother to go home for a

while to recruit. Tom was the less reluctant to do so, as it was

evident that with the force at his command Wellington would not be

able to undertake any great operation, and that the siege and capture

of Badajoz was the utmost likely to be accomplished in that season's

campaign. The mails in due course had brought out the _Gazette_,

and in it Tom and Peter Scudamore were promoted to be captains,

unattached.

Colonel Tritton, upon being applied to, readily gave leave for Sam

to accompany his masters. It was a long journey to Lisbon, but the

jolting of the country cart was made bearable by a layer of hay,

two feet deep, upon which the mattresses were laid, Sam seeing that

at each night's halt the hay was taken out, well shaken, and then

returned to the cart, so as to preserve it light and elastic. A thick

canopy of boughs kept off the heat of the sun, and under it, within

reach of the invalids hung a gourd of fresh water, and a basket of

fruit. Several other cart-loads of wounded officers accompanied them,

and at night they would draw up by a grove of trees where water was

handy, those who could walk would get out, the others would be lifted

out on their mattresses, a great fire made, and round it the beds laid

in a circle, and then the evening would be spent in pleasant chat,

with many an anecdote and an occasional song, until the fire burnt

low, the talk died away, and each, covered in his blankets to keep off

the night dew, fell asleep. Pleasant as was the journey, however, it

was with a thrill of delight that they caught their first sight of

Lisbon, with its broad river, and the blue line of the sea beyond. A

few days later, and they embarked on board a transport, which seven

days afterwards, after a calm passage, arrived at Spithead.

Peter was by this time gaining strength fast, but his back was so

stiff and sore that he was unable to move it, and was obliged to swing

himself along on crutches. The next day the coach took them to London,

and they started the morning after for Marlborough. This time they had

to go inside the coach, two gentlemen, who had previously secured the

seats, kindly giving them up in favor of the wounded young officers,

while Sam took his place on the roof, and amused his fellow-passengers

with wonderful accounts of his adventures at the war. At the inn

at which they took dinner, they alighted, and Tom recognized in the

driver the same coachman who had driven them upon the memorable

occasion of their being stopped by highwaymen three years before. "You

don't remember us, coachman, do you?"

"No, gentlemen, I can't say as how,--but eh! no, why you're the werry

boys as shot the highwaymen. Well, I am glad to see you again, though

you do look white and bad, both of you. I heard as how there were

two wounded officers inside, and that black soldier has been telling

all sorts of tales of the wonderful things as his masters had done,

but not knowing as how it was you, I didn't much believe all he was

telling. Now I quite see as how it was true; and how are you both?"

"Getting on all right," Tom said, returning the warm shake of the

coachman's hand, "and do you know, those pistols have saved our lives

more than once."

"Have they now," the coachman said, in high admiration, "but there, we

most be moving, we are three minutes after time as it is; I shall see

you again next time we stop, gentlemen."

During the next stage the coachman and guard recounted to the outside

passengers the affair of the stopping the coach, and Sam's black face

shone with delight at the tale. Then he had his say, and related the

story of his falling overboard and being rescued, and in consequence

the lads were quite embarrassed when they next halted, by the

attention of their fellow-travelers, who could scarcely understand how

it was possible that two mere boys should have performed such feats of

bravery.

Arrived at Marlborough they looked round in vain for the one-horsed

vehicle which had before met them. "I expect that aunt has not got

our letter, Peter," Tom said. "It would probably go up to town in the

coach with us, and is likely enough in the letter-bag in the boot.

Well, we must have a post-chaise. Won't aunt and Rhoda be surprised;

but they must be expecting us, because they will have had our letter

from Lisbon."

The horses were soon in, Sam took his seat in the rumble, and in a few

minutes they were bounding over the road at a very different pace to

that at which they had before traversed it. "There's the house among

the trees," Peter said at last, "with aunt's pigeons on the roof as

usual, and there's Minnie asleep on the window-sill, and there! yes,

there's Rhoda."

As he spoke a girl, who was sitting reading under a tree, leapt to her

feet, on hearing a carriage stop, and then, catching sight of Peter

waving his hat, while Tom made frantic efforts to open the door, gave

a scream of delight, and rushed towards them, threw her arms round

Tom's neck as he jumped out, and then leapt into the chaise and hugged

and cried over Peter. He was soon helped out, and as they turned to go