Fergus had followed him, when there was a sudden crash, and he was thrown with tremendous force over his horse's head, and there lay stunned with the shock.
When he recovered he staggered to his feet, and saw that he was surrounded by Austrian cavalry; these having halted just where he fell, as pursuit of the Prussians was hopeless, and the balls from the Prussian batteries were falling thick.
"You are our prisoner, sir," an officer said to him.
"So I see," Fergus said bitterly.

"It is hard luck, just at the beginning of the campaign." "It is the fortune of war," the Austrian said with a smile; "and indeed, I don't think that you have any reason to grumble for, had that shot struck a few inches farther back, it would have carried off both your legs." A sharp order was now given to retire.

One of the troopers was ordered to give his horse to Fergus, and to mount behind a comrade; and they rode back to the Austrian main position, on the rising ground.

Fergus was at once taken to the marshal in command of the Austrians.
"What is your name, sir ?" the latter asked.
"Fergus Drummond.

I have the honour to be an aide-de-camp on Marshal Keith's staff." "A Scotchman, I suppose ?" the marshal said, breaking into English.
"Yes, sir." "What force is there opposed to us ?" "That I cannot say, sir.