Winkle, after a few minutes walking.
'Where?' said Mr. Snodgrass.
'There--the gentleman in the blue cloak.' Mr. Snodgrass
looked in the direction indicated by the forefinger of his friend,
and observed a figure, muffled up, as he had described. The
officer evinced his consciousness of their presence by slightly
beckoning with his hand; and the two friends followed him at a
little distance, as he walked away.
The evening grew more dull every moment, and a melancholy
wind sounded through the deserted fields, like a distant giant
whistling for his house-dog. The sadness of the scene imparted a
sombre tinge to the feelings of Mr. Winkle. He started as they
passed the angle of the trench--it looked like a colossal grave.
The officer turned suddenly from the path, and after climbing a
paling, and scaling a hedge, entered a secluded field. Two gentlemen
were waiting in it; one was a little, fat man, with black hair;
and the other--a portly personage in a braided surtout--was
sitting with perfect equanimity on a camp-stool.
'The other party, and a surgeon, I suppose,' said Mr. Snodgrass;
'take a drop of brandy.' Mr. Winkle seized the wicker
bottle which his friend proffered, and took a lengthened pull at
the exhilarating liquid.
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