Thus they fled towards Spain, harassed by the British cavalry and scarcely less by the resentful peasantry of Portugal, their line of march defined by an unbroken trail of carcasses, until the tattered remnants of that once splendid army found shelter across the Coira.

Beyond this Wellington could not continue the pursuit for lack of means to cross the swollen river and also because provisions were running short.
But there for the moment he might rest content, his immediate object achieved and his stern strategy supremely vindicated.
On the heights above the yellow, turgid flood rode Wellington with a glittering staff that included O'Moy and Murray, the quartermaster-general.

Through his telescope he surveyed with silent satisfaction the straggling columns of the French that were being absorbed by the evening mists from the sodden ground.
O'Moy, at his side, looked on without satisfaction.

To him the close of this phase of the campaign which had justified his remaining in office meant the reopening of that painful matter that had been left in suspense by circumstances since that June day of last year at Monsanto.
The resignation then refused from motives of expediency must again be tendered and must now be accepted.
Abruptly upon the general stillness came a sharply humming sound.

Within a yard of the spot where Wellington sat his horse a handful of soil heaved itself up and fell in a tiny scattered shower.