Boys of the Light Brigade: A Story of Spain and the Peninsular War

by Herbert Strang

  *CHAPTER XXX*

  *The Whip Hand*

  No Thoroughfare--A Mountain Inn--A Night with Guerrilleros--The PartingGuest--A Little Dinner--Antonio in Command--A Night Surprise--On theLatch--Mars and Bacchus--The Festive Board--Monsieur Taberne off Duty--AToast--The Score--Crowded Moments--A Fight in the Glade--Quietus

  Nothing ever gave Jack more pleasure to remember than that ride fromTudela. The scent of spring was in the air, birds were twittering erethey tucked themselves up for the night, and under him was a beautifulhorse, whose easy swinging motion was a double joy after so many weeksof hardship and confinement.

  "It is good to be alive," he thought, as he rode on, humming gaily."And now what am I to do?"

  He had only the vaguest idea of the country. He was riding north-westfrom Tudela. The red glow of sunset was fading on his left hand.Calatayud, where he hoped to find Juanita, was far to the south-west.Now that he was quite clear of pursuit, his best plan, he thought, wouldbe to double on his track, and, while avoiding Tudela, and any otherplace likely to hold a French garrison, to make his way back againtowards Saragossa, keeping somewhat west of the highway until he struckthe road between that city and Calatayud.

  "But it will not do to go too far west," he thought, "or I shall getamong the mountains, and then goodness knows when I'll find my way outagain."

  Cautiously enquiring his way at cottages along the road, he arrived inabout three hours at the outskirts of the township of Agreda. It wasnecessary to pass through the place. He thought it more than likelythat the French would have a garrison there, for the mountain rangesbeyond were the haunt of several guerrilla bands which the enemy weremaking spirited but ineffectual efforts to keep in check. He thereforerode in, with one pistol cocked in his right hand, and the holster ofthe other unbuttoned, in readiness for any emergency.

  The moon was rising, and Jack, as he passed through the principalstreet, noticed that narrow lanes led out from it on both sides,presumably towards the vineyards with which the surrounding valley wascovered. His horse trod silently on the roadway, owing to a thick bedof last year's leaves placed upon it by the people, for the purpose ofmaking manure. There was no light in any of the houses; everybodyappeared to have retired to rest, and Jack was congratulating himself onhaving reached the last house, when he came suddenly upon five mountedFrench carabineers, with drawn swords, blocking the street. They hadapparently just come into the town from the other end, on areconnoitring expedition. They saw him at the same moment, and with ashout dashed forward. With only his two pistols to rely on, Jack chosethe discreet part, and instantly wheeled his horse round to the rightinto one of the lanes, in which there was no more than space for onerider to pass. It was a steep ascent, and his horse, gallantlybreasting the hill, showed signs of fatigue natural after the longdistance already travelled. Something must be done to check thepursuit, for if the Frenchmen had fresh horses they were bound to runhim down as soon as they drew out of the lane Springing from his horsewhere the path opened into the vineyards, he fired at the leading man,who was within a few yards of him, and then, with some compunction,discharged his second pistol at the trooper's horse. It fell. Therewas a cry, followed by confused shouts. Jack quietly remounted, andthreaded his way through the vineyards, bearing to the left until hestruck a road that appeared to lead in the direction he wished to go. Helooked cautiously about, in case his recent assailants had belonged to ascattered party. Finding no trace of an enemy, he sped on his way.

  The road was rocky and uneven, winding among the hills, which showedbare and ghostly in the increasing moonlight. After riding on for somesix or seven miles, wondering where he was going and how long his horsewould hold out, he was passing by the brink of a ravine overhung by adark wall of rock, when in a narrow cleft to the right he fancied he sawa glimmer of artificial light. At once dismounting, he led his horsetowards it, carefully picking his way over the rough ground. At the endof the narrow defile he came to a venta of rough-hewn stone, with largecasements, all of which were closed with wooden shutters. The light hehad seen proceeded from a round knot-hole in the shutter of one of therooms on the ground-floor. The hole was higher than his head.Remounting, he drew his horse sideways to the house, and, stooping, puthis eye to the peep-hole. He saw a spacious room, part kitchen, partdining-room, and part dormitory, to judge from the dirty mattressesspread here and there on the floor. In the centre of the wall to theright was an immense chimney-piece, where a pile of pine-logs werecrackling and blazing merrily. Over the fire two huge black kettleswere suspended, and in front a long iron spit, garnished with fowls andgoats'-flesh, was turned by a miserable-looking dog, which, perchedagainst the wall in a wooden barrel, must have suffered both from theheat and from the tread-mill work it was forced to do.

  Opposite the fire, at a more comfortable distance, Jack saw a largetable, around which, seated on benches, crippled chairs, and upturnedcasks, a score or more of men were beguiling the time, till suppershould be ready, by frequent applications to the wine-jug. A glance attheir dress was sufficient to inform Jack of their condition. They woreshort tight-fitting jackets, low-crowned black hats with the brim loopedup on one side, breeches fastened at the knee with coloured ribbons, andlong leather gaiters. From pegs on the wall hung long brown cloaks, andin the corners lay heaps of sabres, pistols, and long carbines.

  "Guerrilleros, for a ducat!" said Jack to himself, "and a desperate set.They have not even troubled to post a sentry. I'm afraid they'll haveto be my bed-fellows to-night, at any rate."

  Without hesitation he rapped smartly on the door with the butt of apistol. There was a sound of movement within, heavy steps approachedthe door, and a gruff voice demanded:

  "Quien vive?"

  "Espana!" said Jack, giving the usual countersign, then by a happyinspiration adding: "Amigo de Antonio el valiente guerrillero."

  With an exclamation of delight the man inside drew the bolts and threwopen the door. The light from a lamp streamed out, and Jack, bendinghis head, asked whether he could be put up at the inn for the night.

  "Verdaderamente, Senor," replied the guerrillero, recognizing fromJack's tone that he had a caballero to deal with. In a few minutes thehorse was stabled, and Jack was seated at the table, partaking of thesavoury stew poured bubbling from the chaldron, and answering the men'seager questions about the end of the siege of Saragossa. They belongedto the band of which Pablo Quintanar and Antonio had been the leaders,and were burning with anxiety as to the fate of those sturdyguerrilleros. Many a deep growl of rage and indignation burst from themwhen they learnt of Quintanar's treason, many a sigh of satisfactionwhen they heard of his fate; and when they knew that Antonio had comesafely through the siege, they were all confident that somehow or otherhe would escape from the French, and hasten to rejoin them in theirmountain fastnesses.

  Jack in his turn asked for information, which the men were not veryready to give. All that he learnt of their movements was that they hadrecently left Soria and were going southward by easy stages, hoping tomeet members of their band escaping from Saragossa. He spent acomfortless night in the dirty inn, and departed next morning early,glad to have got off from such rough companions without the loss of hishorse, on which they had cast longing eyes.

  All that day he travelled by devious paths among the mountains, askinghis way of the few people he met, putting up at night in a ruined cabin,and arriving late on the following evening in the neighbourhood ofMorata. Remembering that the Alvarez country house was near at hand, hefound on enquiry that it lay a few miles to the north, and was atpresent in charge of one old man, who had been a gardener on the estate.Suspecting that Morata itself might be garrisoned by the French, hedecided to turn off before reaching the town, and to seek shelter forthe night at the Alvarez villa.

  Spring had set in unusually early this year, and as Jack rode throughthe lanes he rejoiced in the bright sunshine and the scent of lavenderand rosemary, v
iolets and narcissus, that filled the warm air. Hereached the villa at dusk. It stood half-way up a hill, in a walledgarden, amid luxuriant foliage of laurels. On three sides the gardenwall was approached by the young growth of olive plantations. The houseitself was a long low building of white stone, mellowed by age andweather. A broad oak balcony ran round, sheltering the ground-floorrooms from the sun's rays; and amid its massive columns creeping plants,already in full leaf, pushed their way towards the roof. As Jack rodeup, the odours of honeysuckle and clematis greeted his nostrils, and henoted the small white stars of the jessamine glittering among theirnarrow dark-green leaves.

  The caretaker, a bent old man, received Jack somewhat mistrustfully, butthawed when he was assured of his friendship for the Alvarez family, andvolubly deplored the ruin which had fallen upon it. He conducted thevisitor over the house and round the immense garden, shaking his head atthe wildness of its untended state; all the rose-trees wanted trimming,the fruit-trees pruning, and the strawberries, already ripe, wererotting in their beds. He did what he could, but what was one gardenerfor such an immense garden? He made up a bed for Jack in one of theupper rooms, and promised to provide as good a breakfast as possible inthe morning.

  Shortly after six Jack was urgently aroused by the old man.

  "Senor, Senor," he said, "there are cavalry approaching up the hill.They are French--I am sure they are; it is not safe to stay longer."

  Jack was up in a trice. Hurrying to the stable he quickly saddled hishorse, stuffed some bread into his pocket, and made off by a side gateleading out of the garden just as the horsemen drew rein in front of thehouse. Fortunately the wall hid him from too curious eyes as he led hishorse rapidly away. Gaining an olive plantation a quarter of a mile upthe hill, he decided to wait there for a while, in the hope ofdiscovering something about the horsemen whose advent had broken hissleep. After about half an hour, peeping over a stone fence, he sawthem leave the casa, and strike off in a north-easterly direction amongthe foot-hills. Only the tops of their helmets were visible as theytrotted past, a shoulder of the hillside hiding the rest of them fromview. He counted forty-two. As soon as they had disappeared hereturned on foot to the house, taking his chance of any Frenchmanremaining there. He found the old gardener in a frenzy of rage andagitation.

  "The cursed Frenchmen!" he cried. "Gone--yes, they are all gone, butthey are coming back--this evening. They are foraging, and among them isa dastardly Spaniard, an afrancesado, Senor. He asked me questions; hewanted to know where Jose Pinzon, old Don Fernan's servant, is. As if Iwould answer him, even it I knew!--a traitor, who knows the country andis guiding the French to spoil his countrymen. He told them that thecasa would give them good lodging when their work is done, and orderedme--yes, the dog of an afrancesado ordered me--to have ready a gooddinner for them--for him and three officers, and nearly forty men--bythe time they return. They come from Calatayud; would to God they'dbreak their necks in the hills and never return alive!"

  Jack was sympathetic with the old man, but after all much less concernedwith his troubles than with the possibilities of a scheme that hadflashed upon him. The guerrilleros he had lately left were marching inthat direction from a point somewhat to the west of the line taken bythe French. There was little chance of their falling in with theforaging-party, but it was at least possible that, if they could befound, they might be able to arrange a little surprise for the Frenchwhen they returned. Were they still in the neighbourhood? Jack thoughtit worth while to spend a few hours in discovering this, and decided toreturn to the plantation where he had left his horse, and ride off.Before going he asked the old Spaniard to leave unbolted a door he hadnoticed at the back of the house; it was evidently little used, and nowalmost hidden by tangled masses of creepers.

  "I may want to get in to-night," he said.

  His horse, refreshed by a good night's rest, covered the ground at arapid pace. Jack eagerly scanned the bare hills for signs whether offriend or foe; it was always possible that the French had turned off inhis direction after visiting this or that farm or country house. But hesaw nothing for nearly two hours, when, having ridden, as he estimated,some twenty miles, he suddenly heard a voice, from a rocky ridge at hisleft hand, calling him to halt He reined up instantly, and shouted backin Spanish:

  "Who are you? I am a friend."

  "Get off your horse and put down your pistol then."

  It was a peremptory order, which Jack at any other moment might haveresented; but there was no time to spare, and he decided immediately torisk compliance. The speaker then emerged from behind his rock, andstood revealed in the rough yet gaudy costume of a guerrillero.

  "Hombre, take me to your captain," said Jack, stepping towards him. "Imust speak with him instantly."

  The man pointed out a narrow path between the rocks, just wide enough toadmit a horse, and a few minutes later Jack was led into the presence ofhis stalwart friend Antonio. Explanations were soon exchanged.Antonio, having become an inoffensive civilian on the fall of Saragossa,had had no difficulty in making his way to the mountains. Falling inwith a portion of his old band that had been raiding French convoysalong the Saragossa-Tudela road, he had, only a short time before Jack'sarrival, effected a junction with the smaller band whom Jack had met inthe inn. He was now the leader of a total force of over a hundred men,among whom Jack recognized with pleasure several of his sturdiestfighters during the siege.

  When Antonio had explained to the others who Jack was, their enthusiasmknew no bounds. The Saragossa veterans had already told them what theirEnglish leader had accomplished during the siege; how theirs had beenthe only quarter in the city in which the French had made no progressduring the last three weeks. Antonio now waxed eloquent on the sametheme, and wound up by commanding his men to serve the Senor as theywould their own captain.

  If anything had been wanting to complete his welcome it would have beensupplied by the news he brought. Antonio no sooner heard that a Frenchforaging-party was in the neighbourhood than he decided to cut it off.He was anxious to start immediately and ambush it on its way back to thehouse, but Jack suggested a better plan. The country around the house,being, though hilly, fairly open, presented little opportunity for asuccessful ambuscade, and in the event of the guerrilla troop beingdiscovered, there would be great likelihood of the majority of the enemyescaping. It would be better, Jack suggested, to surround the house atnight; not a Frenchman should then escape. Antonio at once agreed. Hesaid that he would leave the planning entirely to the Senor, which, Jackthought, was as it should be; for Antonio, though a brave and dashingleader of a storming-party, had little claim but that of bull-dogcourage to his position as captain.

  At four o'clock the band, well-mounted and eager, set out on theirmarch. The road followed led by a circuitous course to the foot of thehill on which the Casa Alvarez stood. It was past seven when, as theywheeled round to the left, they saw the twinkling lights of the housemore than a mile above them.

  "They are very bold," remarked Jack to Antonio. "There must be aconsiderable force of French in Calatayud, perhaps at Morata also, orthese foragers would have made some attempt to conceal their movements."

  "Few or many, Senor," declared Antonio, "we'll capture these dogs andhang them up in a string."

  "No, no; but we needn't talk about what we'll do with them till we havethem. I've been thinking out a plan of attack as we rode along. Itwill be best to leave our horses some distance from the house. If oneof them began to neigh it would at once put the French on the alert. Wemust attack on foot in any case. There is a hollow a little farther onwhere we can leave the horses under guard."

  "Very well, Senor."

  "Now we don't want to lose any lives if we can help it, so I think itwill be best for us to get an idea of the enemy's arrangements. I knowthe house, and I propose to go forward alone and see what I can findout. The old gardener will have left the back-door unlocked on thechance of my returning. If when I get there I see a g
ood chance of yoursucceeding in a rush over the walls up to the house, I'll give you asignal--a shrill whistle, say; one of your men can cut me a reed."

  "No need, Senor; I have a whistle here."

  He produced a big steel whistle, which he handed to Jack.

  "That's well. If you don't hear anything from me in the course of anhour after I leave you, you may conclude that I am captured. You hadbetter then rush the sentries, who will no doubt be posted at the frontgate. At the same time your men will scale the wall. One body should besent to cut off egress from the stables, and another to enter by theback-door. I leave the rest to you."

  Half a mile farther on they came to the wooded hollow of which Jack hadspoken. The horses were left there as arranged, and the guerrilleros,headed by Jack and Antonio, advanced cautiously up the hill to withinthree hundred yards of the house. By the light of the rising moon twosentinels could be seen standing at the front gate, between which andthe house lay fifty feet of flower-garden. Jack wondered whethersentries had been placed on the other sides, but judged from the evidentcarelessness of the French that that precaution had not improbably beenneglected. There was no cover for the attacking force beyond about twohundred and fifty yards from the gates, but at both sides theplantations would conceal them. The guerrilleros stole into the shade ofthe trees; the main body remained at the corner of the wall ready toattack in front; smaller parties worked round the sides, until the wholeenclosure was practically surrounded.

  Jack accompanied the party which had gone to the wall facing the rear ofthe house. Under cover of the overhanging branches of a chestnut heclimbed over the wall, which was about eight feet high. No sentry wasposted at the back of the house. In a few minutes Jack had run up thegarden and come to the back-door. Already he had heard sounds ofmerriment proceeding from the house. He placed his ear against thedoor, listening for footsteps within. Hearing nothing in the vicinity,he lifted the latch and slipped inside, finding himself in a largesquare stone-floored room, which had evidently been used as a storehousefor the gardener's tools. At the far side of the room was a doorleading, as he knew, to the corridor surrounding the patio. As hecautiously opened this door his ears were saluted by a deafening babelfrom a room on the right, opening on to the corridor. To judge by thesounds, a large party of French troopers were there enjoying theirevening meal. Shouts of laughter were mingled with bursts of song andthe clatter of knives and crockery. The patio was pitch dark save wherea beam of light fell across it from a window of the room on the right,and another from the kitchen on the opposite side. Hugging the rearwall of the patio, Jack made his way cautiously across its tiled floorto the window of the kitchen. A door opened into the kitchen from thecorridor, opposite to the middle one of the three arches in thecolonnade of the patio. Keeping well in the shadow, Jack saw severalFrenchmen leave the kitchen carrying dishes and flagons, and cross thepatio to the room whence the boisterous sounds were proceeding. He sawalso another man, a tall fellow, whom in the half-light he seemed torecognize, carry a dish into a room at the farther end of the corridor,and close the door behind him. While the door was open Jack heard aburst of song from within. Evidently some of the Frenchmen were alsoregaling themselves there.

  Peeping in at the kitchen window, he saw the gardener, now alone. Hetapped. The Spaniard looked startled for a moment. Then a light ofrecollection came into his eyes. He made hurriedly for the door, and inanother moment was with Jack.

  "I've a hundred men outside," whispered the latter. "Where are theofficers?"

  "In the room at the end, Senor."

  At this moment the door of that very room opened again, and the tallservant came out, and turned down the corridor at the farther end of thepatio.

  "He is going to the cellar under the stairs for wine," whispered the oldman. "Curse them! They are drinking my old master's store ofValdepenas."

  The man had left the door open, and from within the room came the soundof a mellow baritone voice trolling out a sentimental ditty:

  "J'ai fait un bouquet pour ma mie, Un bouquet blanc; J'ai mis mon coeur dedans, Dedans mon bouquet blanc. Comm' nous partions, v'la qu'elle cri-i-e: 'Oh! reviens t'en.' 'Marche!' dit mon lieutenant. Je lui laiss' mon bouquet blanc. J'ai mis mon coeur, j'ai mis mon coeur dedans, Dedans mon bouquet blanc."

  Shouts of applause followed the last words. Immediately afterwards thetall servant returned with a huge flagon, re-entered the room, and shutthe door.

  "Hombre," said Jack in a whisper, "you must go into that room."

  "But, Senor, I'm afraid for my life. There's a big hound of a Frenchmanthere whose very voice makes me shiver."

  "You must go in. I caught sight of a screen as that man entered justnow. All I want you to do is to go in and show yourself--ask if theyare fully supplied--and give me time to slip in behind you; then waitoutside the door till I call."

  The old man hesitated for a moment, then plucked up his courage andwalked along the corridor, Jack following. The Spaniard opened the door,and was instantly ordered to go about his business. He moved back atonce, but meanwhile Jack had slipped inside the room, and found that inan angle of the four-leaved screen he could conceal himself, not onlyfrom the persons in the room, but from anyone passing through the door.He quietly slit a hole in the screen with his penknife, and peepedthrough.

  Around a ponderous old table of black oak, illuminated by a dozen waxcandles and covered with dishes and flagons and glasses, sat four men.At the head, with his braided scarlet coat open from the neck, sat afat, red-faced, big-moustachioed officer, whom Jack recognized at onceas the blusterous commissary from whom he had coaxed such valuableinformation at Olmedo. At the foot sat a French captain, who wasalready half-drunk; on the other side was a young lieutenant, with pinkcheeks. With his back to the door there was a man in Spanish dress, whoat that moment beckoned forward the tall servant to fill the captain'sempty glass. As the man moved round the table, Jack caught the glitterof Perez' one eye, and at the same instant recognized the seatedSpaniard as Miguel Priego himself.

  Listening, Jack was amused to find that Commissary Gustave Taberne hadlost nothing of his braggadocio.

  "Parbleu, Senor Don What-do-you-call-yourself, this is wine of the rightsort. Nothing in this world is so soul-satisfying as good Valdepenasafter a hard day's work. Mind you, I say 'after'. I'm not like CaptainHorace Marie Etienne d'Echaubroignes yonder, who'll drink in bed, onhorseback, or in a pig-stye--it's all one to him. No; the emperor wouldcall me a pig if I got drunk before my work was over. I can drink agallon without staggering, and have a bottle at my hand without touchingit; but when my duty is done--ah ca! then I can fill my skin incomfort, and sing a song with any man."

  The long-named captain scowled at the reference to himself, bent forwardover the table, and stuttered:

  "Monsieur l'inten--l'intendant, do you mean that for a--a reflection?"

  "Not at all, not at all, monsieur le capitaine. It was a compliment--toyour versatility and your--h'm!--capacity."

  "Eh bien!" rejoined the captain, lifting his glass unsteadily, "if youmean it that way--"

  The commissary winked at Miguel.

  "J'ai fait un bouquet pour ma mie, Un bouquet blanc,"

  he hummed. "Tiens! Songs like that suit a gay young bachelor like youbetter than a man of my age, with a wife and family. Come, Senor DonSomething-or-other, sing us one of your Spanish songs--a serenade suchas your gallants sing by night under their lady's window.Tol-lol-di-rol! Come now--sing up."

  "Really, monsieur, after hearing your excellent voice, I do not feelable to enter into competition with you," said Miguel stiffly.

  "Ah bah! Allons! you are still in our debt. You did us a good serviceto-day, in truth; but remember, we found your lady-love for youyesterday. Ohe! her eyes, her cheeks, parbleu! I envy you thelovely--how does she call herself--la belle Juanita? Tol-lol-di-rol!Chantez, mon ami."

  "We Span
iards are not accustomed to discuss such matters in mixedcompany," said Miguel, still more irritably.

  "We Spaniards! Par exemple! I'm not a Spaniard; nor are you, myfriend, to judge by your reception in the Spaniards' houses to-day."

  His tone was decidedly nettled, and the young lieutenant lookeduncomfortable, and seemed about to hazard a remark. The captain wassolemnly drinking.

  "Eh bien!" said the commissary, changing his tone. "There's no need forus to quarrel. The lovely Juanita is to be your bride; that is settled.We'll see what we can do with King Joseph to hasten matters. And so,without more words, let us drink a health to her!"

  "Perez, another bottle," said Miguel.

  The one-eyed servant came across the room, and Jack slipped out of sightbetween two leaves of the screen. The commissary sang on:--

  "J'ai mis mon coeur dedans, Dedans mon bouquet blanc. Comm' nous pardons, v'la qu'elle crie: 'Oh! reviens t'en.'

  Voila qu'il en revient!" (as Perez re-entered).

  "You can go and get your own supper," said Miguel when the cork wasdrawn.

  Perez left the room. As soon as he had gone, Jack, relying on thecommissary being engrossed with the bottle, opened the door an inch, andbeckoned the old Spaniard in.

  "Now, Senor Don What's-your-name," said the commissary, "we Frenchmenwill drink a bumper to the fair Spaniard, the black-eyed beauty.Messieurs, aux beaux yeux de la belle Ju--an--i--"

  He had lifted his brimming glass half-way to his lips, and turned with afat smile towards Miguel, when he paused, his hand stayed in mid-air,and he broke off in the middle of Juanita's name. Advancing towards himfrom behind the screen he saw a young Spaniard, with a drawn sword inhis right hand, and in his left a pistol, cocked and pointed.

  "You will excuse me, messieurs," said Jack quietly, "intruding upon youthus unceremoniously--pray keep your seats," he added, as the lieutenantpushed back his chair, and the fuddled captain half rose. "In fact, Ishall take it so ill if you move but a hair's breadth that I cannotanswer for my nerves!"

  For all its banter, Jack's tone had in it so much of deadly earnestnessthat the officers sank limply back into their seats, the instinctivemovement towards sword and pistol arrested as if by a sudden palsy.Miguel had remained on his chair without moving a muscle. With him theFrench were four to one, for as a combatant the old man did not count;but each of the four knew that the first among them to take up the gagewould fall instantly to Jack's pistol, and the knowledge dulled the edgeof their courage.

  "Hombre," continued Jack, addressing the old gardener, "bolt the door."

  The man was trembling in every limb, but hastened to obey the order.

  "That is right. Now, feel in my left-hand pocket. You will find awhistle. You have it? Then open yonder window and blow three times."

  The man went to the window behind the commissary, opened one of itsleaves, and blew three shrill blasts. While this was going on, the foursat helplessly in the same position in which Jack had surprised them.The lieutenant's pink cheeks had paled; the commissary's rubicundfeatures had become like mottled soap; the captain was red with sottishindignation; Miguel had never moved. Jack could only see his back.

  "With your permission, messieurs," Jack went on, "this good man willmake a little collection. Hombre, relieve that gentleman at the head ofthe table of his sword and pistol. No, no; not this side of him. Youmay get hurt if you come between us, and we cannot spare a goodSpaniard--can we, Don Miguel? Go round him. That's right. Now bringthe weapons and put them on the floor behind me. So. Now, go round inthe same way and get the next gentleman's arms."

  Before the man reached the lieutenant, a confused hubbub came into theroom from the front of the house through the open window--the clash ofsteel, the report of firearms. Almost at the same moment loud sounds ofthe same kind came from the direction of the patio. The old servanthesitated, stood still, his fingers working nervously.

  "Go on, hombre," said Jack sternly, his pistol still pointed.

  While the uproar on both sides gathered strength, the Spaniard totteredtowards the lieutenant, and with shaking hands disengaged his sword andpistol, which he placed alongside of the commissary's on the floorbehind Jack. He was just repeating the process of disarmament with thecaptain when loud shouts were heard at the door, followed by heavy blowsfrom the butts of muskets. Apparently the French troopers had beendriven across the patio, and were seeking their officers in the innerroom. Jack did not move a muscle, but he devoutly hoped that the doorwould stand the strain; otherwise the window was his only chance, thoughin any case he could not desert the old man.

  The noise outside provided a strange contrast to the quietness within.Almost silently the Spaniard had disarmed three of the four feasters.It was now Miguel's turn. In advancing towards him the old man, alarmedby the tremendous thunderings on the door behind him, and by a bulletthat crashed through one of the panels, incautiously stepped betweenMiguel and Jack. In an instant, with an extraordinary muscular effortfor so slightly built a man--an effort nerved doubtless by the knowledgeof what his fate would be if he fell into the hands of hiscountrymen,--Miguel seized the man by the middle, and, swinging himround so as to make of him a screen between himself and Jack, dashedtowards a curtain of arras that apparently overhung a doorway on theopposite side of the room. At the same moment a number of Spaniards,headed by Antonio, came headlong through the open window.

  "Secure the Frenchmen!" shouted Jack, springing after Miguel. He couldnot fire. When he reached the curtain he stumbled over the oldSpaniard, whom Miguel flung back at his pursuer as he dashed through thedoor into the dark anteroom beyond. Jack recovered himself in aninstant, but Miguel had disappeared, and when Jack had followed him intothe darkness he heard him stumbling over furniture on the other side ofthe room. Then began a desperate chase. As is common in Spanishhouses, room opened into room, and Jack pursued the traitor through doorafter door, occasionally catching a fleeting glimpse of him by themoonlight filtering through the windows of rooms on the outer wall, butlosing him again in the darkness before there was time to fire. At lastMiguel, gaining a slight lead, was able to open a window at the back ofthe house, and sprang out into the garden, flinging the leaf of thewindow back almost in Jack's face. Outside he fell sprawling on theground, but was up in an instant, and rushed madly down the path cuttingthe garden in two.

  Jack leapt through the window after him, stumbled, recovered himself,and was off after the fugitive. Tearing through the bushes that hadoverspread the path, he flew along, saving his breath, setting his lips,fiercely determined to bring the wretched man to book at last. Miguelhad reached the wall; with the agility of despair he sprang at it, andwas over. Jack was a better runner; he made as little difficulty of thewall; pursuer and pursued were now in full career through the oliveplantation. Miguel's breath was failing; he knew that he could notescape. Stopping suddenly in an open glade, he turned round, and abullet whistled past Jack's head as he closed with his quarry. Theheadlong rush had spoiled Miguel's aim.

  Disdaining to use his pistol, Jack at once engaged Miguel with hissword. The Spaniard stood fiercely at bay, panting with his exertions,his face showing livid with fear in the pale moonlight. There were afew rapid passes; then with a groan he dropped his sword, his forearmgashed from wrist to elbow.

  "Hold!" he gasped. "I am at your mercy. Spare me!"

  Jack dropped the point of his sword.

  "What--are--you--going--to--do--with--me?" panted Miguel.

  "Do with you? There is only one thing for me to do: deliver you to yourfellow-countrymen. They shall judge you."

  "Not that, for the love of God!" was the agonized reply, whisperedrather than spoken. "You know what that means! Spare me that! Ratherfinish what you have begun. For old time's sake you would not throw meto those wolves. Ah! their fiendish tortures! See! have done with it;strike here!"

  Miguel Escapes from the Garden]

  He tore open his shirt and bared
his bosom to the sword. It was wellacted, but Jack was not for a moment deceived. Miguel, he knew, had notthe slightest expectation of being taken at his word. Yet thealternative! When once the guerrilleros had him in their power therewould be no torture too horrible for the renegade and traitor. Jackremembered with a shudder the tales he had heard--even those told him byMiguel himself in Salamanca. Could he deliver the wretch, vile thoughhe was, to so awful a fate? Could he allow the traitor to go free? Itwas a painful dilemma.

  So they stood while a man might count ten.

  There was a crackle in the undergrowth, the sound of a light footfall,and, lifting his sword, Jack half-turned. As he did so a heavy formstruck against him. He felt a scorching pain between the shoulders, andpitching heavily forward sank unconscious to the ground. The dilemmahad solved itself.