Chapter 4

CHAPTER VIIPepito intervenesPrecautions—Gone to Earth—Foundered—In the Nick of Time—The Allied Army—At the Marchesa's Palace—Social Salamanca—Light Refreshments—Messengers—A RecognitionThe stable-yard lay to the rear of the inn. Snow had been falling lightly during Jack's conversation with the commissary, and one of the servants was busily sweeping the slush into a corner. The stable doors were open, and several lads and men were attending to the horses of the commissary's escort, the universal hiss of men employed in that occupation being mingled with curses which it was lucky the Frenchmen could not hear or understand. Jack went up to one of the men and asked him to bring out his mule. The ostler turned from the horse he was grooming and looked at Jack with an air of incivility, if not downright insolence. He made no movement to carry out the order, and, glancing round, Jack became aware that all the other stable-helps had left their work and were gazing at him with the same distrustful, lowering scowl."What's the matter?" he thought.The men had been all civility when he gave his mule into their hands on his arrival. What could be the cause of this unpleasant change of attitude? Jack was puzzled. Meanwhile he wanted his mule unhaltered and saddled, and though he was tempted to do it himself, and not trouble the reluctant servants, he saw that such a course would not improve his position with them. He knew the Spanish character too well to bluster or dictate. After a pause of only a few moments he addressed the same man quietly and politely, but with a firmness that admitted no refusal; and the servant, dropping his eyes, turned sullenly to do his bidding.A few minutes later, as he rode out of the courtyard, he met the alcalde, looking very angry and much perturbed. He was coming, evidently, from his interview with the commissary. He looked up at Jack as he passed, and half-stopped, as though hesitating whether to address him. Jack was surprised to note the same quick glance of suspicion in the alcalde's eyes as he had seen in those of the stablemen. The official seemed to be on the point of speaking, but he gave a hurried and anxious glance towards the window of the commissary's room, flushed hotly, and with a final dark look at Jack turned away. Jack rode on, feeling that the eyes of the whole inn were upon him, and possessed by an unaccountable sense of insecurity.The meaning of it all flashed upon him quite suddenly. The alcalde had seen him in close and apparently friendly conversation with the commissary. Their interview had lasted for a considerable time, and must have been talked about among the people of the inn. Every Spaniard must feel that no true patriot would hold amicable intercourse with a Frenchman, an enemy of his country, except under compulsion, and it was now evident to Jack that he was regarded as a traitor, perhaps a spy, selling the interests of his compatriots to the invader. The thought made him smile."Shall I go back and tell them?" he said to himself. "They'd be surprised to find how the boot is on the other leg."But a moment's reflection convinced him that to reveal his secret would not be politic, even if he were believed. There were too many Frenchmen about the inn to make it safe for him to enter into long explanations. Then another thought came which promised a spice of adventure."I shouldn't wonder if they follow me, and perhaps try to do for me. They will if they think I'm a French spy. I'll take the Valladolid road first, and cut off to the left when I'm well out of sight from the town."Careful not to look behind, he rode slowly on until a bend in the road concealed him from the inn; then he jogged the sides of his mule and quickened its pace from a walk to a trot.The snow had ceased to fall, and the afternoon sun promised to thaw the light glistening mantle that covered the bare country. There was enough snow yet on the ground to show clear tracks of his course to any pursuers. Being anxious to get a good start, he soon urged his mule to a gallop, hoping that, if he was indeed followed, the hoof-marks might have been thawed away from the high-road before he turned off to Medina del Campo.After riding hard for some three miles he came to a river. On either side of the bridge the bank sloped down to the water's edge, and Jack, feeling that his mule needed a rest, saw here an excellent opportunity of learning, without risk to himself, whether a pursuit had been commenced. Dismounting, he led the animal carefully down the shelving miry bank, and found that underneath the first arch of the bridge there was ample room to conceal both himself and the mule from the eyes of any but careful searchers. The snow had by this time been converted to a washy sludge, and the ground having been trampled by many animals before his own, he had no fear of his tracks being sufficiently marked to attract special attention.He had remained in his place of concealment but a few minutes when he heard in the distance, in the direction from which he had come, the dull thud of hoofs. As they approached, the sounds were mingled with the subdued hum of voices. Jack waited with no little curiosity, keeping a hand on his mule's reins to prevent the animal from emerging into view. The sounds grew louder. Several riders galloped their steeds up to the end of the bridge, and halted them for a moment as though in indecision. Then they resumed their progress and rode on to the bridge, the clatter of hoofs awaking an echo from the arches below. When they had gained the other side Jack crept carefully up the bank until he could safely peep over the parapet, and saw four riders pelting rapidly towards Valladolid. He gave a chuckle as he recognized the men who had behaved so churlishly in the stable-yard."A lucky miss!" he thought. "They're after me."They were riding horses, and it was clear that but for his little stratagem he must soon have been overtaken. What should be his course now? He could not reckon on their riding much farther along the main road, for they would naturally enquire of anyone they might meet if a tradesman had been seen riding a mule that way, and in the course of a few miles, allowing for their greater speed, they must suspect that their quarry had turned to one side or the other. Obviously he must lose no time. Retracing his steps, he led the mule from the muddy river-bed, remounted, and rode along the tow-path in the hope of soon discovering a road that would lead in the direction of Medina. In a few minutes he came to a rough and narrow cart-track between two fields on his left hand. It must lead somewhere, and, being anxious at any rate to put as much ground as possible between himself and his pursuers, Jack wheeled his mule to the left and rode along the rough track at a canter.He found that it led into a somewhat wider road, crossing it at an obtuse angle. The ground was much cut up by cart-wheels, and the mule laboured heavily on the soft swampy ground. Jack eased the pace, hoping that the start he had obtained would enable him to keep well ahead of his pursuers, even if they soon discovered their mistake and had the luck to track him. By and by he came to a considerable ascent, up which he was fain to allow the animal to walk, and on reaching the summit he found the poor beast so breathless that he dismounted and walked slowly on, leading the mule. Turning after a while in the direction from which he had come, he caught a glimpse, in the far distance, of a group of riders coming towards him. It was impossible to distinguish their figures, much less their features. Delay was dangerous; so without hesitation Jack sprang again on the mule's back and set off once more towards Medina. For a time he was hidden from the riders by rows of stunted trees that lined the road. Then the road took a sharp curve to the right, and before him he saw a long hill, sloping gradually down for nearly a mile towards what appeared to be a plantation. He urged the mule now to its top speed, noting with some anxiety that the animal was breathing with difficulty, and showing other only too manifest signs of fatigue. Before he had reached the foot of the hill it was patently flagging, and when, having passed that point, another upward ascent began, the mule staggered once or twice, recovered itself, staggered again, and, finally, just as Jack came abreast of a low farmhouse that lay back some sixty yards from the road, it dropped on its knees, its rider barely escaping being thrown on his head upon the road."Whew! This is awkward," he said to himself. He looked up the hill he had just descended. "By George! there they are," he exclaimed under his breath. Four riders had just topped the crest, and were coming towards him, at no great speed, for their horses were evidently tired; but clearly they must overtake him in less than five minutes. Jack looked around for some means of escape. He might stand his ground and fight them, but the odds were against him, and a single crack in the head would prevent him from reaching Salamanca, and render useless the information he had obtained for his general. "I must run for it, but how and where?" he thought.At this moment he heard a sound behind him. Turning hastily, he was amazed to see a little dark figure clad in a zamarra of sheepskin, a high-peaked, narrow-brimmed hat, a red plush waistcoat with many buttons and clasps, and a brilliant crimson-silk girdle about the waist. In one hand the dwarfish creature carried a large pair of shears, in the other the reins of a half-clipped mule, which walked meekly behind him."Pepito!" Jack gasped in amazement.Pepito grinned."No time to waste, Señor," he said. "I saw you come down the hill, and the Busne behind you. Your mule has foundered. Here is a fresh mule I was clipping; mount him and ride on."Clearly there was no time for explanations. In a moment Jack was on the mule's back."Thanks, Pepito!" he said. "But what will you do? Those fellows will kill you."Pepito smiled."Never fear, Señor. The Gitano is more than a match for the Busne. Ride, Señor, ride. They have not seen you yet. Quick!"He led the mule a few yards beyond the spot at which Jack had halted, and pointed to a road that went off the main-road to right and left."The left road leads to Medina," he said. Then he struck the mule sharply on the flank, and waved his hand gaily to Jack, who set off at full speed, rounded a curve, and was soon lost to sight. As he disappeared, he heard behind him the shrill notes of a song that was ever and anon on Pepito's lips:"The Romany chal to his horse did cry,As he placed the bit in his horse's jaw,Kosko gry! Romany gry!Muk man kistur tuté knaw."He smiled as he heard the uncouth words, and rode on, wondering by what cunning device the little gipsy would throw the pursuers off the scent, as he evidently intended to do.Jack had intended to make his way back to the Posada de Oriente at Medina, and there obtain a rest and a change of mules. But having got a fresh steed by Pepito's fortunate intervention, he changed his plan, and decided to make straight for Salamanca by Carpio and Cantalapiedra. He had still fifty miles to ride, and after his experience with the foundered mule he doubted whether one animal would carry him the whole way. But there was an off chance that another mount might be procurable in case of need, and his mission was urgent. He therefore pushed on, avoiding Medina, and taking a short cut for Carpio. It was four o'clock when he reached that town. He halted for half an hour to bait his mule and snatch a meal, then he resumed his journey, and an hour and a half after dark he entered the wretched streets of Pedroso. He had ridden but a few yards into the town when a figure on horseback moved silently out from the shadow of a church and stood full across his path. He pulled up, and then a guttural and husky voice addressed him roughly:"Who go zere? Qui va la? Quien vive?"Jack laughed quietly."Is the caballero himself the allied army?" he said in his best Castilian."Donnerwetter noch einmal!" growled the horseman, adding in bad Spanish: "Give the word, and quickly.""You have the advantage of me, my good friend," responded Jack in English, "so you had better take me to your captain."Jack had now recognized the man by his uniform as a trooper in the 3rd Light Dragoons of the King's German Legion. The dragoon grunted in surprise on hearing English, and, wheeling his horse beside Jack's mule, he laid one hand on his rein, and with the other held his carbine close to the new-comer's head, and so escorted him to the inn where the cavalry patrol was quartered.The officer there seated at ease, a burly moustachioed Hessian, looked up as the trooper clanked into the room, holding Jack by the sleeve."A stranger, Herr Rittmeister," he said in German, "who cannot or will not give the countersign.""Not such a terrible stranger, Captain Werder," said Jack in English, recognizing the German as the officer through whom he had obtained his horse in Salamanca. A few words sufficed to explain his presence in such guise, and half an hour afterwards, mounted on a spare horse luckily at hand, he set off on the last eighteen miles that lay between him and his destination.It was seven o'clock when he reached Salamanca, and, tired as he was, bespattered with mud from head to foot, he proceeded at once to the general's quarters. There he learnt that Sir John was attending a reception given by the Marchesa de Almaran, one of the grandes dames of the city. Leaving the horse at a neighbouring inn, Jack made his way to the Marchesa's palace, hoping that the commander-in-chief's explicit instructions would excuse any want of ceremony there might be in his action. He pulled the broad brim of his hat well over his eyes, and turned up the high collar of his coat, passed the English guard of honour outside the palace, and, entering at the open door, asked for the major-domo."General Sir Moore is within?" he said to that functionary when he appeared."He is.""Will you tell him that a señor waits below with important news, and begs an instant audience?"The major-domo looked somewhat suspiciously at the dirty, travel-stained Spaniard before him."The general is in the sala, and there is dancing. I do not know that I can interrupt him now.""If you will kindly give my message, the general will see me," persisted Jack."What name shall I tell him?""I do not give my name. Merely say that it is a señor whom he knows."The functionary shrugged, and led Jack within the vestibule—a vaulted apartment not unlike the porch of a church, illumined by a single small lamp. Two or three servants were gathered about a fire."Wait here," said the major-domo, and left the visitor. The servants eyed him for a moment, then resumed their conversation, of which Jack caught a few words here and there. A messenger from General Castaños—a long ride from Saragossa—brave fellow—yes, a true caballero, no other would have faced the perils of so long a ride through country infested by the French—yes, such courage was worthy of a true son of Spain, and far exceeded anything of which the English were capable. Such were some of the remarks Jack overheard, and he smiled as he remembered that Mr. Vaughan had ridden double the distance, and come through equal perils, arriving earlier after all.Some minutes passed, and every now and then, as the sound of guitars floated down the broad staircase, Jack envied the good fortune of the officers who, he did not doubt, were footing it gaily above. Then the major-domo returned and silently beckoned the visitor to follow him. He led him upstairs, through a narrow corridor where, on benches of carved wood or plaited straw, lay a variety of cloaks, hats, and silken scarves. Pushing open a door, the major-domo preceded him into a wide dimly-lighted room. "Remain here; I will fetch the general," he said, and was gone.Jack saw that the room was connected by folding-doors, which were now thrown open, with a large salon lighted by numerous candles. It was crowded with a brilliant assembly. Along the walls sat many ladies in elegant mantillas, each gracefully wielding the indispensable fan. Among them was a sprinkling of priests and sad-eyed students of the university. The centre of the room was occupied by the younger society of the city—Spanish officers and lawyers, with young ladies in festal array, engaged in dancing the javaneja to the music of a band of guitarists stationed at the farther end of the room. It was the first time that Jack had seen this characteristically Spanish dance since he had left Barcelona six years before, and his feet itched to join in it. He watched the couples as they made their graceful rhythmic movements, each holding a coloured kerchief in one hand, the other curved over the head. It formed an interesting spectacle against the bright background formed by the red coats of British officers of all ranks, who stood silent spectators, each no doubt privately wishing that the unfamiliar dance would come to an end, and that an opportunity might be given them of teaching the señoritas the quadrilles which were then all the rage in England, or country-dances, in which they were still more at home. Nearly all the men, except those who were dancing, were smoking cigarettes. Every lady, young or old, had a flower in her hair.The javaneja at length ceased, and the Spaniards gave place with evident reluctance to the British officers, who immediately set partners for a quadrille, and began their task of tuition, to the great hilarity of the ladies. Jack was becoming impatient. He had not caught sight of Sir John Moore, and wondered how long he was to be kept waiting in this dim ante-chamber. He looked around. There were two or three tables set with refreshments; but there was no tea, no ices, no punch; nothing but urns of chocolate, small glasses of sugared water, and a plate of azucarillos.Jack wondered how the English section of the company, among whom he had now recognized his friends Pomeroy and Smith and several other of his acquaintance, would be satisfied with this plain and simple fare, so different from that provided at the luxurious entertainments at home. Two or three solemn servants moved quickly about between the rooms, carrying glasses of sugared water to the ladies. As they passed Jack they eyed him curiously, but with Spanish stolidity made no remarks. Keeping in the shadow, he looked on at the animated throng with ever-increasing impatience, wondering whether the major-domo had forgotten him altogether. By and by he saw Pomeroy lead his partner to a seat, and come towards the ante-room with the manifest intention of seeking refreshment for her himself. Jack stepped back as Pomeroy crossed from room to room, and the subaltern, throwing a curious glance at the strange cloaked figure that stood there in the shadow, looked for a moment as though he would like to question his right to be there. But the moment passed, and almost immediately afterwards Sir John Moore emerged from a curtained doorway behind the band, and crossed rapidly to where Jack stood awaiting him."I am sorry to have kept you waiting, Señor," he said in Spanish, with his unvarying courtesy, "but I have had to listen for half an hour to a countryman of yours who brought me news which, after all, happened to be a trifle stale. You have an important message for me, I understand?""I am Lumsden of the 95th," said Jack in English, in a low tone which none but the general's ear could catch. Sir John started, and glanced keenly at Jack; then a smile passed over his face."Capital! capital!" he said. "I shouldn't have known you from Adam. Come into the farther corner, away from these noisy dancers, and tell me your news. You'd rather be kicking your heels among them, eh?" he added with a twinkle."Not till you have done with me, sir," replied Jack as he accompanied the general out of earshot. There, in a dim corner of the room, he gave Sir John a succinct account of his movements, assuring him that the French were beyond doubt making for Madrid, ignorant of, and not even suspecting, the proximity of the British column at Salamanca."You have come very pat to the occasion," said Moore, who had listened to Jack's story without interrupting it. "You confirm what I already suspected from a previous messenger. No, not the messenger who came just now from General Castaños, and whom the good people here have already elevated into a hero; his news was three days behind time. But to-day the Spanish generals Bueno and Escalente reached me from the Junta at Madrid, and made a strong, and, I must say, insolent, protest against my intended retreat, assuring me that General San Juan, with 20,000 men, has fortified the pass of Somosierra and effectually blocked the way to Madrid, and urging me to march towards him. They would have talked a cow's hind-leg off, Mr. Lumsden, but I effectually shut the mouths of my informants by confronting them with Colonel Graham, who has just come in from Talavera, where San Juan is the prisoner of the villainous runagates from Castaños' beaten army. If the Spaniards depend on him to defend the Somosierra pass their hope is a poor one. However, what you tell me proves that the French are not coming towards me, and for the present at any rate I am perfectly safe here. Now, you have been so successful that I am going to tax you still further. You are very tired, no doubt?""A good supper and a night's rest will cure that, sir.""Then you'll be prepared to set off again to-morrow?""Certainly. I am very glad to be of use.""You have been of the greatest use; I shall act upon your information, and at once. And, by the bye, I must congratulate you on your messengers. Your two Spanish lads brought me your messages, and gave me great hopes that I had not misjudged you—hopes amply justified. I have despatches to write, so I will take leave of my hostess and accompany you to the door."In a few minutes Sir John Moore, cloaked and hatted, was striding down the corridor with Jack by his side. They came to the outer door, where by the light of a huge torch a tall Spanish officer in brilliant uniform was taking leave of two ladies with what struck Jack as somewhat affected gallantry. He glanced up as the Englishmen passed, saluted Sir John Moore with much condescension, and then, as his eye fell on Jack, started with an air of bewilderment. He looked again with still keener scrutiny at the shorter of the two figures, whom he followed slowly. At the porch Sir John bade Jack a cordial good-bye. The latter turned to the left, towards Don Pedro's house, but had only walked a few yards when he felt a touch on his arm. Glancing over his shoulder without checking his pace, he saw that he had been followed by the tall Spaniard whom he had passed at the door. The next moment a voice that was oddly familiar addressed him in smooth suave tones that struck him with a curious sense of discomfort."Surely the Señor will spare a minute to an old friend."CHAPTER VIIIDon Miguel PriegoMemories—A Self-confessed Patriot—Confidences—Plain Speaking—Reflections—A Public DepartureJack stopped now, and faced round at the speaker, who still had a hand on his arm."I recognized you at once," the man continued, "though your disguise is good, very good. I have not seen you for a good many years, Jackino, but I never forget any face I have once seen, still less one that I have lived with in the days of childhood. Don't you remember your old friend—""Why, you're Miguel Priego," interrupted Jack, with no great cordiality of tone. "How you've grown! Who would have thought you would have topped me by a couple of inches! And what a swell, too!""Yes, I have changed more than you, amigo," said Don Miguel with a complacency that irritated Jack, already annoyed that his disguise had been penetrated. "Ah! and there have been other changes, great changes, since I last saw you, Jackino. You are an English officer, and I might perhaps not have recognized you so easily if you had been dressed in your uniform like your friends; but the hat and cloak—oh! Miguel Priego would have been a fool indeed if he had not known the dear companion of his boyhood.""You're rather more affectionate than you were when we parted, Miguel," said Jack bluntly."Don't say that. We were always good friends, Jackino; is it not true? You and I and Juanita—ah! what fun we had in the old house at Barcelona. Do you remember the times when Don Fernan came from Saragossa and brought Juanita on a visit to your father and mine, and how we shared the presents he gave us?""Your share usually happened to be the biggest, if my memory doesn't play me false.""Well, I was the eldest of the three; I am three years older than you, amigo mio, and four years older than Juanita.""How is Juanita?" asked Jack."In fair health, but paler than I should like to see her. But her grief will wear away in time, and when she becomes my—""Her grief! What do you mean, Miguel?""You do not know, then? I am forgetting; of course you do not get news very well here. I myself rode in only to-day from Saragossa, at the risk of my neck, Jackino, with tidings of the unfortunate misadventure at Tudela, and—""Come, Miguel," said Jack, "we can't stand here. Where are you staying? While I'm in this rig-out it will be better for me to go with you than for you to come with me.""That is true. Come, then; I am staying at the Fonda de Suizo in the Calle de Zamora. We can talk there at ease, and I shall be glad on my part to hear again of my old friends your father and mother, and to tell you of the sad changes that have taken place, and the bright changes also, dear friend."Jack was very tired, and in no mood to make himself amiable to a man for whom he had an intense aversion. But he was so anxious to learn the meaning of Miguel's hints and half-statements that he put his feelings in his pocket and trudged along. Ever since he could remember, he had disliked Miguel, the only son of his father's second partner, Don Esteban Priego. They had grown up together in Barcelona, and almost his earliest recollections were connected with the petty meannesses and cruelties of Miguel. Three years older than Jack, Miguel had played the bully with the younger boy until he grew strong enough to defend himself; and then, not daring to molest him openly, he had shown great ingenuity in devising petty annoyances which were even harder to bear than his former brutalities. He was cruel to children and animals smaller than himself. Jack remembered how Miguel had once lamed a spaniel of his in wanton mischief, and how, whenever Juanita, the only daughter of Don Fernan the senior partner, had been brought to Barcelona on a visit, she had often run to Jack's house in tears to seek protection from the boy's bullying and domineering. The tone in which Miguel had referred to Don Fernan and Juanita gave Jack vague uneasiness, and he paid scant heed to Miguel's talk by the way, and scarcely answered him.Don Miguel, however, was quite content to do all the talking. He was a patriot, he said, and high in favour with General Palafox. He had early volunteered in defence of his country, and had won rapid promotion, being now indeed, though but twenty years of age, a major in Palafox's Hussars. When the news of Castaños' defeat arrived in Saragossa, Palafox had sent him off with the news to General Moore, and he boasted largely of his readiness to undertake, with only one servant, so perilous a ride. Not, he thought, that his servant would have been of much use had they come across the French; he would have had to trust to his own skill and courage, for the poor man had unfortunately lost an eye; still, he was a faithful fellow and a good forager.Jack caught himself wondering what service the man could have rendered the master. It was scarcely in Miguel's character to allow a mere question of sentiment to outweigh the loss of an eye. Jack recalled his passion for display; he could not imagine him willingly accepting a one-eyed follower. This thought passed like a flash through Jack's mind while Miguel was proceeding to dilate complacently on the scenes of butchery and torture he had witnessed as he came through the country of the guerrilleros, who had no mercy on the stray Frenchmen they succeeded in ambushing. Jack at last gave utterance to an exclamation of disgust."Ah!" sneered Miguel, "that is your English squeamishness. You English have no nerves. What is the good of your coming out here? We will show you how to deal with these accursed Frenchmen, and if your stomach turns against it, well, go home to your nurses in little England, and play with your tin soldiers and toy guns, for you are no good in Spain."Their arrival at the inn checked the reply that rose to Jack's lips. Don Miguel, in the same oily, languid tone that was causing Jack more and more irritation, ordered the landlord to make himself scarce, as he had important business to discuss with his friend, and in a few moments the two were left alone in the room. The Spaniard flung off his cloak, revealing the resplendent uniform of Palafox's Hussars, and as he removed his hat Jack noticed a long, livid scar running from his brow to his left eye, disfiguring what was otherwise a well-looking countenance so far as features were concerned."And how is your excellent father?" asked Miguel as he lolled in the only easy-chair in the room. "He is lucky, truly, for the stock in London is a good one, and he will do a good business, whereas with us these troubles have brought trade to a stand-still, and we are obliged to suspend all operations. But things will improve. Don Fernan, with his shrewd head for business, foresaw what would happen, and took steps to realize what he could on the stock before the outbreak of war, which was a very lucky thing for my father and myself and Juanita. And he could not have chosen a more convenient moment for dying, for—""For dying! Is Don Fernan dead?" cried Jack."Dead as a door-post, poor man! I thought you would be surprised to hear it. He had been ailing ever since his exertions in the siege of Saragossa last summer—there was something wrong with his heart, I think,—and when the news came that General Castaños had met with a mishap at Tudela, he held up his hands and cried: 'Oh my country! my poor country!' then fell forward and died. He was an old man, of course, and must have died soon, and I have only come a little sooner into the inheritance that was bound to come to me.""Did Don Fernan appoint you his heir, then?" asked Jack with a keen look. "What about Juanita?""Does it not come to the same thing, my friend? Juanita, of course, is Don Fernan's heiress, but since in a little while, when the mourning is over, she will marry me—""Marry you!"There was contempt as well as surprise in Jack's tone, and Miguel evidently felt this, for he replied with flashing eyes, though with no change in his bland manner:"Yes, marry me—that was what I think I said. Of course if my good friend Jackino has any objection—""Good heavens! Juanita is a thousand times too good for you!" Jack blurted out."Quite so; she is a thousand times too good for any man. But since she does me the honour to become my wife, you will surely not have the impudence to question her choice, dear friend."He hissed out the last sentence, and bent a little forward. Jack shrugged."She wasn't always so fond of you," he said bluntly."That is not the point, is it?" returned Miguel with an exasperating smile. "The match has long been talked of; Don Fernan and my father were agreed that it was an excellent arrangement for uniting the business interests of the two families. And now that Don Fernan is dead I shall marry Juanita as soon as possible, my father will retire, and I shall be the sole partner of your excellent father, for you, of course, have a soul much above business, and will no doubt ere long be a field-marshal. Perhaps, however, you have no ambition to earn fame in the open and heroic way? Your costume would suggest, my friend, that you are satisfied with a more modest and retiring part—but still, no doubt, profitable—""It seems to me, Miguel," said Jack, interrupting him very quietly, "that you have forgotten the last thrashing I gave you. Remember, I am always at your service. But I should not advise you to risk another scar like the one you have already. How," he added quickly, "did you come by that?"Miguel's sullen face assumed a dusky hue, and the scar showed all the more livid. He flinched, as bullies will, before Jack's menacing attitude."Hot-tempered as ever," he said with an attempt to smile. "Why will you take offence so easily? What have I said? Here I find you, an Englishman, in Spanish dress, and I conclude, naturally enough, that you are fulfilling an office of very great importance and usefulness, and when I—""Now look here, Miguel, I don't want to quarrel with you, but you'd better understand at once that I'm not a child, and that your oily tongue won't do you any good with me. I don't suppose we shall see much more of each other; when—if—you marry Juanita you will settle down, I suppose, in Saragossa, and our paths won't cross. I tell you frankly I'm astonished that Juanita will have you; but she's old enough to know her own mind—though our girls in England don't marry so early—and I hope with all my heart she'll be happy. And now I think I'd better say good-night!""And good-bye!" said Miguel sweetly. "I will carry your good wishes to Juanita, be sure of that.""Where is she, by the way?" asked Jack."In Saragossa, with her aunt the Doña Teresa.""And you are returning immediately?""Oh no! I go on to-morrow towards Leon, with despatches for the Marquis of La Romana. The Spanish generals will have to strike a blow without the assistance of your General Moore, it appears."Jack ignored the sneer."Well, good-bye!" he said. "There's no need to suggest that you should take care the French don't catch you.""True, true, Jackino. Give my respects, when you see him, to your excellent father, to whom I hope to have before long the honour of sending the documents relative to the changes in the business. Adios, amigo mio!"He accompanied Jack to the door, and looked after him with a mocking smile. Jack, pulling his cloak more closely around him, and his sombrero lower over his eyes, walked rapidly to his quarters, where, proceeding directly to his room, he threw himself upon his bed with a sigh of weariness and contentment.But it was long before the much-needed sleep came to him. He lay awake, unable to keep his thoughts from running round the circle of his adventures and dwelling on his unexpected meeting with Miguel. The more he thought of his conversation with that gentleman the more puzzled he felt. As a child, Juanita had shrunk from the boy and had never willingly gone into his presence. It was very odd that she should have overcome her dislike and now be ready to marry him. Perhaps she still disliked him, and had agreed to the match merely because it was desired by Don Fernan and Miguel's father, Don Esteban. But even then it was extraordinary, for Don Fernan himself had never shown any liking for Miguel, and had indeed on many occasions taken him severely to task and punished him for acts of deceit and dishonesty. Miguel did not appear to Jack to have changed: what had altered Don Fernan's opinion of him? Then, too, there was Don Fernan's letter, in which he had spoken of his anxiety on behalf of his daughter. Why, if he were satisfied with the proposed match, should he be anxious about her future? And what had General Palafox to do with all this? Miguel was the general's trusted messenger; could Palafox have influenced Don Fernan's judgment? Jack wished he could go to Saragossa, and enquire for himself into all the circumstances—see Juanita, and discover whether she were in truth a willing bride. And then he thought of the phrase Don Fernan had so carefully impressed upon his memory: "Palafox the man, Palafox the name," and with this repeating itself to the hundredth time in his weary brain he at length fell asleep, and slept on until he was awakened about ten o'clock next morning by loud cries in the street.Springing from bed, he ran to the window. Men were waving their hats, women their fans and handkerchiefs. At every window there was a fluttering scarf. Loud vivas rose into the air as an officer in full uniform, followed by a gorgeously-dressed orderly, clattered by.The officer smiled with gratification at the warmth of the cheers, and kissed his hand gallantly to the ladies who peeped at him out of their mantillas. Jack smiled satirically."Pooh! It's only Don Miguel Priego! Confound the sneak!"He was about to withdraw, when the orderly turned his head to the left, as though seeking a share of the admiration so lavishly bestowed on his superior. Jack noticed that one eye-socket was closed; the man's remaining eye had a curiously malign glitter that gave the beholder a strange sense of uneasiness."Is this how people feel when they talk of the evil eye?" he said to himself with an unmirthful laugh. Then he donned his own clothes and went gloomily downstairs to find his brother officers.CHAPTER IXSome SurprisesAt the Cross-Roads—A Mêlée—Bagged—Franceschi's Chasseurs—Under Guard—A Hard Case—Moore's Plans—Reconnoitring—Within the Gates—Caged—Blind Man's Buff—A Strategic Move—A Dash on Rueda—An Alarm—A Chase in the Dark—A TragedyAbout two o'clock on a frosty December afternoon, some ten days after Jack Lumsden's return to Salamanca, four riders were walking their horses up a slight incline about three miles out of Alaejos towards Valladolid. Three of them were troopers in the 18th Light Dragoons, the fourth, riding slightly in advance of the rest, was Jack himself, now wearing his own uniform, and mounted on a fine black charger borrowed from the regiment to which his companions belonged. A few yards from the crest of the hill, lying back from the road, was a mean-looking hovel at the door of which stood a little black-eyed girl, who watched the advancing riders with her finger in her mouth."Hullo, little girl," said Jack in Spanish, pulling up as he came abreast of her, "are we on the right road for Tordesillas?"The child gave a scared look at the troopers and fled into the hut without replying."You've sent the timid little beggar into her burrow," said Jack with a smile. At the same moment a heavy-browed man appeared at the door, in the rough coat and thick gaiters of a muleteer."Ha, my friend," said Jack in a genial tone, "your little daughter needn't have been afraid of us! Are we going right for Tordesillas?""Straight on, Señor," replied the man, with stolid countenance. "Over the river; you can't miss your way.""Thanks! Any sign of the French hereabout?""Never a man—the saints forbid!" said the man with a scowl. "They carried off my last pig six months ago. Gr-r-r! I hate them!""Well, they won't trouble you much longer if we can help it. Buenas tardes!""Vaya usted con Dios, Señor!" replied the muleteer, doffing his hat; and as the Englishman rode off, his little daughter came to his side and watched with him their retreating figures.A mile farther on they had just crossed the stream of which the man had spoken, when Jack suddenly reined up his horse and in a low tone ordered his men to halt."Do you hear anything, Kelly?" he asked of one of the troopers.The man turned his head aside, and his companions sat motionless, an expectant look upon their faces."Riders, sir!" said Kelly in a moment."I thought so," returned Jack. "To our right, eh?""Yes, sir."There was a moment's silence. Behind them came a slight murmur from the full river, but more distinctly, from some distant point beyond a wall-enclosed orchard on their right, sounded the unmistakable clatter of horses' hoofs on the hard road."Wait here," said Jack, springing from his horse. "Don't make a sound. I'm going forward to reconnoitre. Hold my horse's rein, Kelly, and don't let him champ his bit."He ran forward, round a slight bend in the road. In two minutes he was back."Men," he said in a low voice, "there's a road to the right, and half a dozen Frenchmen riding down towards us. I think they're French—by their helmets. We four are a match for the six, eh?"The men grinned.Jack rapidly took stock of the situation. The wind was almost due east; he and his men were riding north-east, and as they were the smaller party, and had been travelling only at walking pace, it was not likely that the enemy had heard them coming. The idea of dismounting his men and forming an ambuscade at first suggested itself. Jack glanced round for a convenient tree or post to which they might tether the horses; but though there were plenty of trees beyond the orchard wall, the only way in was a quarter of a mile to their rear. This meant that even if the ambuscade were successful two at least of the enemy would be almost certain to escape, for Jack and his men, with three carbines and a pistol, could at the best only account for four at the first volley, and the remaining two would have a start of half a mile before they could be pursued. On the other hand, if Jack told off a man to hold the horses, his striking force would be reduced to three, and there was always the risk that two of the horses—young Spanish chargers purchased at Salamanca and only half-trained—would break away at the sound of the firing. For these reasons Jack preferred to trust to cold steel.Giving his commands almost in a whisper, he drew up his men in line under cover of the wall, about thirty yards from the cross-road, ordering them to be in readiness to charge at the word. Each man silently drew his sabre and Jack uncovered his sword, still fresh as when he received it from the makers in Pall Mall. It was not perhaps quite so suitable for the purpose in hand as the weapons carried by the troopers, but Jack knew that it was of the highest temper, and felt confident that it would not fail him.In little more than a minute the increasing clatter showed that the unsuspecting Frenchmen were approaching the cross-roads. There was no slackening of pace as they neared the junction, and Jack inferred from this that their route lay straight across the main road towards Castroduno or Toro. Every second seemed like a minute to him as he waited for the horsemen to arrive, but after what seemed an interminable delay two helmets at last appeared beyond the angle of the wall. Jack drove his spurs into his horse, giving the word "Charge!" and, with their leader a pace or two in advance, the three troopers dashed forward. In a few seconds the two bodies met with a terrific shock. The French dragoons, unable to check their progress, had just had time to draw their sabres; the leading files had half-wheeled their horses to meet the storm, but the two succeeding troopers were taken square on the flank, and all the advantage of momentum being on the side of the attacking force, the whole four went down like a ship struck by a squall. Almost before Jack could realize what had happened he was reining in his horse on the far side of the cross-road; three of the Frenchmen were lying motionless on the road, a fourth, dismounted, was defending himself with spirit against one of Jack's troopers, and three horses were scampering wildly towards Toro. He was wheeling his horse round, when, almost at the same moment, two bullets whizzed past his head. The two remaining Frenchmen had halted before reaching the cross-road, rapidly fired their carbines, and, turning round in the direction from which they had come, were now galloping wildly away."After them, Kelly!" shouted Jack to the corporal, who was just beside him; and, leaving the other two troopers to secure the dismounted Frenchmen, the two dashed off at a mad gallop. They were a hundred yards behind at the start; the Frenchmen were down upon their horses' necks, shouting to the beasts in a fever of haste. But as luck would have it, they were heavy men; Jack was a light-weight, and before the chase had proceeded for two hundred yards he began to gain, and the interval between himself and Kelly was increasing. Foot by foot he made up on his quarry; in little more than a mile he was at the heels of the rearmost Frenchman. The man, feeling that he was at a disadvantage, suddenly swerved towards the near side of the road, bending low as he did so to avoid Jack's blow, and then, as Jack darted past, pulled his horse on his haunches and wheeled round to meet Kelly. Thinking he could safely leave this man to the heavy trooper, Jack rode on after the Frenchman in front, and within a couple of minutes had him at his mercy. The dragoon had no time to turn and meet his pursuer; with a horse of superior speed, Jack, coming up behind him, had a terrible advantage over the fugitive, who was painfully twisting himself round in the saddle to meet the expected blow. Choosing his opportunity, Jack, dropping his own sword, wrested the Frenchman's sabre from his grasp, and next moment drove him into the hedge."Je me rends! je me rends!" cried the Frenchman, panting."Comme de juste!" gasped Jack, who then turned to see how Kelly was faring. He had ridden down and over the luckless dragoon, who, rising painfully to his feet, called for quarter. Being a strapping fellow, the trooper had been unable to do more than maintain his distance from the second Frenchman, who, however, seeing Jack now standing full in his path, recognized that the game was up, checked his horse, and quietly surrendered his sword just as Kelly came bustling to his side.

CHAPTER VII

Pepito intervenes

Precautions—Gone to Earth—Foundered—In the Nick of Time—The Allied Army—At the Marchesa's Palace—Social Salamanca—Light Refreshments—Messengers—A Recognition

The stable-yard lay to the rear of the inn. Snow had been falling lightly during Jack's conversation with the commissary, and one of the servants was busily sweeping the slush into a corner. The stable doors were open, and several lads and men were attending to the horses of the commissary's escort, the universal hiss of men employed in that occupation being mingled with curses which it was lucky the Frenchmen could not hear or understand. Jack went up to one of the men and asked him to bring out his mule. The ostler turned from the horse he was grooming and looked at Jack with an air of incivility, if not downright insolence. He made no movement to carry out the order, and, glancing round, Jack became aware that all the other stable-helps had left their work and were gazing at him with the same distrustful, lowering scowl.

"What's the matter?" he thought.

The men had been all civility when he gave his mule into their hands on his arrival. What could be the cause of this unpleasant change of attitude? Jack was puzzled. Meanwhile he wanted his mule unhaltered and saddled, and though he was tempted to do it himself, and not trouble the reluctant servants, he saw that such a course would not improve his position with them. He knew the Spanish character too well to bluster or dictate. After a pause of only a few moments he addressed the same man quietly and politely, but with a firmness that admitted no refusal; and the servant, dropping his eyes, turned sullenly to do his bidding.

A few minutes later, as he rode out of the courtyard, he met the alcalde, looking very angry and much perturbed. He was coming, evidently, from his interview with the commissary. He looked up at Jack as he passed, and half-stopped, as though hesitating whether to address him. Jack was surprised to note the same quick glance of suspicion in the alcalde's eyes as he had seen in those of the stablemen. The official seemed to be on the point of speaking, but he gave a hurried and anxious glance towards the window of the commissary's room, flushed hotly, and with a final dark look at Jack turned away. Jack rode on, feeling that the eyes of the whole inn were upon him, and possessed by an unaccountable sense of insecurity.

The meaning of it all flashed upon him quite suddenly. The alcalde had seen him in close and apparently friendly conversation with the commissary. Their interview had lasted for a considerable time, and must have been talked about among the people of the inn. Every Spaniard must feel that no true patriot would hold amicable intercourse with a Frenchman, an enemy of his country, except under compulsion, and it was now evident to Jack that he was regarded as a traitor, perhaps a spy, selling the interests of his compatriots to the invader. The thought made him smile.

"Shall I go back and tell them?" he said to himself. "They'd be surprised to find how the boot is on the other leg."

But a moment's reflection convinced him that to reveal his secret would not be politic, even if he were believed. There were too many Frenchmen about the inn to make it safe for him to enter into long explanations. Then another thought came which promised a spice of adventure.

"I shouldn't wonder if they follow me, and perhaps try to do for me. They will if they think I'm a French spy. I'll take the Valladolid road first, and cut off to the left when I'm well out of sight from the town."

Careful not to look behind, he rode slowly on until a bend in the road concealed him from the inn; then he jogged the sides of his mule and quickened its pace from a walk to a trot.

The snow had ceased to fall, and the afternoon sun promised to thaw the light glistening mantle that covered the bare country. There was enough snow yet on the ground to show clear tracks of his course to any pursuers. Being anxious to get a good start, he soon urged his mule to a gallop, hoping that, if he was indeed followed, the hoof-marks might have been thawed away from the high-road before he turned off to Medina del Campo.

After riding hard for some three miles he came to a river. On either side of the bridge the bank sloped down to the water's edge, and Jack, feeling that his mule needed a rest, saw here an excellent opportunity of learning, without risk to himself, whether a pursuit had been commenced. Dismounting, he led the animal carefully down the shelving miry bank, and found that underneath the first arch of the bridge there was ample room to conceal both himself and the mule from the eyes of any but careful searchers. The snow had by this time been converted to a washy sludge, and the ground having been trampled by many animals before his own, he had no fear of his tracks being sufficiently marked to attract special attention.

He had remained in his place of concealment but a few minutes when he heard in the distance, in the direction from which he had come, the dull thud of hoofs. As they approached, the sounds were mingled with the subdued hum of voices. Jack waited with no little curiosity, keeping a hand on his mule's reins to prevent the animal from emerging into view. The sounds grew louder. Several riders galloped their steeds up to the end of the bridge, and halted them for a moment as though in indecision. Then they resumed their progress and rode on to the bridge, the clatter of hoofs awaking an echo from the arches below. When they had gained the other side Jack crept carefully up the bank until he could safely peep over the parapet, and saw four riders pelting rapidly towards Valladolid. He gave a chuckle as he recognized the men who had behaved so churlishly in the stable-yard.

"A lucky miss!" he thought. "They're after me."

They were riding horses, and it was clear that but for his little stratagem he must soon have been overtaken. What should be his course now? He could not reckon on their riding much farther along the main road, for they would naturally enquire of anyone they might meet if a tradesman had been seen riding a mule that way, and in the course of a few miles, allowing for their greater speed, they must suspect that their quarry had turned to one side or the other. Obviously he must lose no time. Retracing his steps, he led the mule from the muddy river-bed, remounted, and rode along the tow-path in the hope of soon discovering a road that would lead in the direction of Medina. In a few minutes he came to a rough and narrow cart-track between two fields on his left hand. It must lead somewhere, and, being anxious at any rate to put as much ground as possible between himself and his pursuers, Jack wheeled his mule to the left and rode along the rough track at a canter.

He found that it led into a somewhat wider road, crossing it at an obtuse angle. The ground was much cut up by cart-wheels, and the mule laboured heavily on the soft swampy ground. Jack eased the pace, hoping that the start he had obtained would enable him to keep well ahead of his pursuers, even if they soon discovered their mistake and had the luck to track him. By and by he came to a considerable ascent, up which he was fain to allow the animal to walk, and on reaching the summit he found the poor beast so breathless that he dismounted and walked slowly on, leading the mule. Turning after a while in the direction from which he had come, he caught a glimpse, in the far distance, of a group of riders coming towards him. It was impossible to distinguish their figures, much less their features. Delay was dangerous; so without hesitation Jack sprang again on the mule's back and set off once more towards Medina. For a time he was hidden from the riders by rows of stunted trees that lined the road. Then the road took a sharp curve to the right, and before him he saw a long hill, sloping gradually down for nearly a mile towards what appeared to be a plantation. He urged the mule now to its top speed, noting with some anxiety that the animal was breathing with difficulty, and showing other only too manifest signs of fatigue. Before he had reached the foot of the hill it was patently flagging, and when, having passed that point, another upward ascent began, the mule staggered once or twice, recovered itself, staggered again, and, finally, just as Jack came abreast of a low farmhouse that lay back some sixty yards from the road, it dropped on its knees, its rider barely escaping being thrown on his head upon the road.

"Whew! This is awkward," he said to himself. He looked up the hill he had just descended. "By George! there they are," he exclaimed under his breath. Four riders had just topped the crest, and were coming towards him, at no great speed, for their horses were evidently tired; but clearly they must overtake him in less than five minutes. Jack looked around for some means of escape. He might stand his ground and fight them, but the odds were against him, and a single crack in the head would prevent him from reaching Salamanca, and render useless the information he had obtained for his general. "I must run for it, but how and where?" he thought.

At this moment he heard a sound behind him. Turning hastily, he was amazed to see a little dark figure clad in a zamarra of sheepskin, a high-peaked, narrow-brimmed hat, a red plush waistcoat with many buttons and clasps, and a brilliant crimson-silk girdle about the waist. In one hand the dwarfish creature carried a large pair of shears, in the other the reins of a half-clipped mule, which walked meekly behind him.

"Pepito!" Jack gasped in amazement.

Pepito grinned.

"No time to waste, Señor," he said. "I saw you come down the hill, and the Busne behind you. Your mule has foundered. Here is a fresh mule I was clipping; mount him and ride on."

Clearly there was no time for explanations. In a moment Jack was on the mule's back.

"Thanks, Pepito!" he said. "But what will you do? Those fellows will kill you."

Pepito smiled.

"Never fear, Señor. The Gitano is more than a match for the Busne. Ride, Señor, ride. They have not seen you yet. Quick!"

He led the mule a few yards beyond the spot at which Jack had halted, and pointed to a road that went off the main-road to right and left.

"The left road leads to Medina," he said. Then he struck the mule sharply on the flank, and waved his hand gaily to Jack, who set off at full speed, rounded a curve, and was soon lost to sight. As he disappeared, he heard behind him the shrill notes of a song that was ever and anon on Pepito's lips:

"The Romany chal to his horse did cry,As he placed the bit in his horse's jaw,Kosko gry! Romany gry!Muk man kistur tuté knaw."

"The Romany chal to his horse did cry,As he placed the bit in his horse's jaw,Kosko gry! Romany gry!Muk man kistur tuté knaw."

"The Romany chal to his horse did cry,

As he placed the bit in his horse's jaw,

Kosko gry! Romany gry!

Muk man kistur tuté knaw."

He smiled as he heard the uncouth words, and rode on, wondering by what cunning device the little gipsy would throw the pursuers off the scent, as he evidently intended to do.

Jack had intended to make his way back to the Posada de Oriente at Medina, and there obtain a rest and a change of mules. But having got a fresh steed by Pepito's fortunate intervention, he changed his plan, and decided to make straight for Salamanca by Carpio and Cantalapiedra. He had still fifty miles to ride, and after his experience with the foundered mule he doubted whether one animal would carry him the whole way. But there was an off chance that another mount might be procurable in case of need, and his mission was urgent. He therefore pushed on, avoiding Medina, and taking a short cut for Carpio. It was four o'clock when he reached that town. He halted for half an hour to bait his mule and snatch a meal, then he resumed his journey, and an hour and a half after dark he entered the wretched streets of Pedroso. He had ridden but a few yards into the town when a figure on horseback moved silently out from the shadow of a church and stood full across his path. He pulled up, and then a guttural and husky voice addressed him roughly:

"Who go zere? Qui va la? Quien vive?"

Jack laughed quietly.

"Is the caballero himself the allied army?" he said in his best Castilian.

"Donnerwetter noch einmal!" growled the horseman, adding in bad Spanish: "Give the word, and quickly."

"You have the advantage of me, my good friend," responded Jack in English, "so you had better take me to your captain."

Jack had now recognized the man by his uniform as a trooper in the 3rd Light Dragoons of the King's German Legion. The dragoon grunted in surprise on hearing English, and, wheeling his horse beside Jack's mule, he laid one hand on his rein, and with the other held his carbine close to the new-comer's head, and so escorted him to the inn where the cavalry patrol was quartered.

The officer there seated at ease, a burly moustachioed Hessian, looked up as the trooper clanked into the room, holding Jack by the sleeve.

"A stranger, Herr Rittmeister," he said in German, "who cannot or will not give the countersign."

"Not such a terrible stranger, Captain Werder," said Jack in English, recognizing the German as the officer through whom he had obtained his horse in Salamanca. A few words sufficed to explain his presence in such guise, and half an hour afterwards, mounted on a spare horse luckily at hand, he set off on the last eighteen miles that lay between him and his destination.

It was seven o'clock when he reached Salamanca, and, tired as he was, bespattered with mud from head to foot, he proceeded at once to the general's quarters. There he learnt that Sir John was attending a reception given by the Marchesa de Almaran, one of the grandes dames of the city. Leaving the horse at a neighbouring inn, Jack made his way to the Marchesa's palace, hoping that the commander-in-chief's explicit instructions would excuse any want of ceremony there might be in his action. He pulled the broad brim of his hat well over his eyes, and turned up the high collar of his coat, passed the English guard of honour outside the palace, and, entering at the open door, asked for the major-domo.

"General Sir Moore is within?" he said to that functionary when he appeared.

"He is."

"Will you tell him that a señor waits below with important news, and begs an instant audience?"

The major-domo looked somewhat suspiciously at the dirty, travel-stained Spaniard before him.

"The general is in the sala, and there is dancing. I do not know that I can interrupt him now."

"If you will kindly give my message, the general will see me," persisted Jack.

"What name shall I tell him?"

"I do not give my name. Merely say that it is a señor whom he knows."

The functionary shrugged, and led Jack within the vestibule—a vaulted apartment not unlike the porch of a church, illumined by a single small lamp. Two or three servants were gathered about a fire.

"Wait here," said the major-domo, and left the visitor. The servants eyed him for a moment, then resumed their conversation, of which Jack caught a few words here and there. A messenger from General Castaños—a long ride from Saragossa—brave fellow—yes, a true caballero, no other would have faced the perils of so long a ride through country infested by the French—yes, such courage was worthy of a true son of Spain, and far exceeded anything of which the English were capable. Such were some of the remarks Jack overheard, and he smiled as he remembered that Mr. Vaughan had ridden double the distance, and come through equal perils, arriving earlier after all.

Some minutes passed, and every now and then, as the sound of guitars floated down the broad staircase, Jack envied the good fortune of the officers who, he did not doubt, were footing it gaily above. Then the major-domo returned and silently beckoned the visitor to follow him. He led him upstairs, through a narrow corridor where, on benches of carved wood or plaited straw, lay a variety of cloaks, hats, and silken scarves. Pushing open a door, the major-domo preceded him into a wide dimly-lighted room. "Remain here; I will fetch the general," he said, and was gone.

Jack saw that the room was connected by folding-doors, which were now thrown open, with a large salon lighted by numerous candles. It was crowded with a brilliant assembly. Along the walls sat many ladies in elegant mantillas, each gracefully wielding the indispensable fan. Among them was a sprinkling of priests and sad-eyed students of the university. The centre of the room was occupied by the younger society of the city—Spanish officers and lawyers, with young ladies in festal array, engaged in dancing the javaneja to the music of a band of guitarists stationed at the farther end of the room. It was the first time that Jack had seen this characteristically Spanish dance since he had left Barcelona six years before, and his feet itched to join in it. He watched the couples as they made their graceful rhythmic movements, each holding a coloured kerchief in one hand, the other curved over the head. It formed an interesting spectacle against the bright background formed by the red coats of British officers of all ranks, who stood silent spectators, each no doubt privately wishing that the unfamiliar dance would come to an end, and that an opportunity might be given them of teaching the señoritas the quadrilles which were then all the rage in England, or country-dances, in which they were still more at home. Nearly all the men, except those who were dancing, were smoking cigarettes. Every lady, young or old, had a flower in her hair.

The javaneja at length ceased, and the Spaniards gave place with evident reluctance to the British officers, who immediately set partners for a quadrille, and began their task of tuition, to the great hilarity of the ladies. Jack was becoming impatient. He had not caught sight of Sir John Moore, and wondered how long he was to be kept waiting in this dim ante-chamber. He looked around. There were two or three tables set with refreshments; but there was no tea, no ices, no punch; nothing but urns of chocolate, small glasses of sugared water, and a plate of azucarillos.

Jack wondered how the English section of the company, among whom he had now recognized his friends Pomeroy and Smith and several other of his acquaintance, would be satisfied with this plain and simple fare, so different from that provided at the luxurious entertainments at home. Two or three solemn servants moved quickly about between the rooms, carrying glasses of sugared water to the ladies. As they passed Jack they eyed him curiously, but with Spanish stolidity made no remarks. Keeping in the shadow, he looked on at the animated throng with ever-increasing impatience, wondering whether the major-domo had forgotten him altogether. By and by he saw Pomeroy lead his partner to a seat, and come towards the ante-room with the manifest intention of seeking refreshment for her himself. Jack stepped back as Pomeroy crossed from room to room, and the subaltern, throwing a curious glance at the strange cloaked figure that stood there in the shadow, looked for a moment as though he would like to question his right to be there. But the moment passed, and almost immediately afterwards Sir John Moore emerged from a curtained doorway behind the band, and crossed rapidly to where Jack stood awaiting him.

"I am sorry to have kept you waiting, Señor," he said in Spanish, with his unvarying courtesy, "but I have had to listen for half an hour to a countryman of yours who brought me news which, after all, happened to be a trifle stale. You have an important message for me, I understand?"

"I am Lumsden of the 95th," said Jack in English, in a low tone which none but the general's ear could catch. Sir John started, and glanced keenly at Jack; then a smile passed over his face.

"Capital! capital!" he said. "I shouldn't have known you from Adam. Come into the farther corner, away from these noisy dancers, and tell me your news. You'd rather be kicking your heels among them, eh?" he added with a twinkle.

"Not till you have done with me, sir," replied Jack as he accompanied the general out of earshot. There, in a dim corner of the room, he gave Sir John a succinct account of his movements, assuring him that the French were beyond doubt making for Madrid, ignorant of, and not even suspecting, the proximity of the British column at Salamanca.

"You have come very pat to the occasion," said Moore, who had listened to Jack's story without interrupting it. "You confirm what I already suspected from a previous messenger. No, not the messenger who came just now from General Castaños, and whom the good people here have already elevated into a hero; his news was three days behind time. But to-day the Spanish generals Bueno and Escalente reached me from the Junta at Madrid, and made a strong, and, I must say, insolent, protest against my intended retreat, assuring me that General San Juan, with 20,000 men, has fortified the pass of Somosierra and effectually blocked the way to Madrid, and urging me to march towards him. They would have talked a cow's hind-leg off, Mr. Lumsden, but I effectually shut the mouths of my informants by confronting them with Colonel Graham, who has just come in from Talavera, where San Juan is the prisoner of the villainous runagates from Castaños' beaten army. If the Spaniards depend on him to defend the Somosierra pass their hope is a poor one. However, what you tell me proves that the French are not coming towards me, and for the present at any rate I am perfectly safe here. Now, you have been so successful that I am going to tax you still further. You are very tired, no doubt?"

"A good supper and a night's rest will cure that, sir."

"Then you'll be prepared to set off again to-morrow?"

"Certainly. I am very glad to be of use."

"You have been of the greatest use; I shall act upon your information, and at once. And, by the bye, I must congratulate you on your messengers. Your two Spanish lads brought me your messages, and gave me great hopes that I had not misjudged you—hopes amply justified. I have despatches to write, so I will take leave of my hostess and accompany you to the door."

In a few minutes Sir John Moore, cloaked and hatted, was striding down the corridor with Jack by his side. They came to the outer door, where by the light of a huge torch a tall Spanish officer in brilliant uniform was taking leave of two ladies with what struck Jack as somewhat affected gallantry. He glanced up as the Englishmen passed, saluted Sir John Moore with much condescension, and then, as his eye fell on Jack, started with an air of bewilderment. He looked again with still keener scrutiny at the shorter of the two figures, whom he followed slowly. At the porch Sir John bade Jack a cordial good-bye. The latter turned to the left, towards Don Pedro's house, but had only walked a few yards when he felt a touch on his arm. Glancing over his shoulder without checking his pace, he saw that he had been followed by the tall Spaniard whom he had passed at the door. The next moment a voice that was oddly familiar addressed him in smooth suave tones that struck him with a curious sense of discomfort.

"Surely the Señor will spare a minute to an old friend."

CHAPTER VIII

Don Miguel Priego

Memories—A Self-confessed Patriot—Confidences—Plain Speaking—Reflections—A Public Departure

Jack stopped now, and faced round at the speaker, who still had a hand on his arm.

"I recognized you at once," the man continued, "though your disguise is good, very good. I have not seen you for a good many years, Jackino, but I never forget any face I have once seen, still less one that I have lived with in the days of childhood. Don't you remember your old friend—"

"Why, you're Miguel Priego," interrupted Jack, with no great cordiality of tone. "How you've grown! Who would have thought you would have topped me by a couple of inches! And what a swell, too!"

"Yes, I have changed more than you, amigo," said Don Miguel with a complacency that irritated Jack, already annoyed that his disguise had been penetrated. "Ah! and there have been other changes, great changes, since I last saw you, Jackino. You are an English officer, and I might perhaps not have recognized you so easily if you had been dressed in your uniform like your friends; but the hat and cloak—oh! Miguel Priego would have been a fool indeed if he had not known the dear companion of his boyhood."

"You're rather more affectionate than you were when we parted, Miguel," said Jack bluntly.

"Don't say that. We were always good friends, Jackino; is it not true? You and I and Juanita—ah! what fun we had in the old house at Barcelona. Do you remember the times when Don Fernan came from Saragossa and brought Juanita on a visit to your father and mine, and how we shared the presents he gave us?"

"Your share usually happened to be the biggest, if my memory doesn't play me false."

"Well, I was the eldest of the three; I am three years older than you, amigo mio, and four years older than Juanita."

"How is Juanita?" asked Jack.

"In fair health, but paler than I should like to see her. But her grief will wear away in time, and when she becomes my—"

"Her grief! What do you mean, Miguel?"

"You do not know, then? I am forgetting; of course you do not get news very well here. I myself rode in only to-day from Saragossa, at the risk of my neck, Jackino, with tidings of the unfortunate misadventure at Tudela, and—"

"Come, Miguel," said Jack, "we can't stand here. Where are you staying? While I'm in this rig-out it will be better for me to go with you than for you to come with me."

"That is true. Come, then; I am staying at the Fonda de Suizo in the Calle de Zamora. We can talk there at ease, and I shall be glad on my part to hear again of my old friends your father and mother, and to tell you of the sad changes that have taken place, and the bright changes also, dear friend."

Jack was very tired, and in no mood to make himself amiable to a man for whom he had an intense aversion. But he was so anxious to learn the meaning of Miguel's hints and half-statements that he put his feelings in his pocket and trudged along. Ever since he could remember, he had disliked Miguel, the only son of his father's second partner, Don Esteban Priego. They had grown up together in Barcelona, and almost his earliest recollections were connected with the petty meannesses and cruelties of Miguel. Three years older than Jack, Miguel had played the bully with the younger boy until he grew strong enough to defend himself; and then, not daring to molest him openly, he had shown great ingenuity in devising petty annoyances which were even harder to bear than his former brutalities. He was cruel to children and animals smaller than himself. Jack remembered how Miguel had once lamed a spaniel of his in wanton mischief, and how, whenever Juanita, the only daughter of Don Fernan the senior partner, had been brought to Barcelona on a visit, she had often run to Jack's house in tears to seek protection from the boy's bullying and domineering. The tone in which Miguel had referred to Don Fernan and Juanita gave Jack vague uneasiness, and he paid scant heed to Miguel's talk by the way, and scarcely answered him.

Don Miguel, however, was quite content to do all the talking. He was a patriot, he said, and high in favour with General Palafox. He had early volunteered in defence of his country, and had won rapid promotion, being now indeed, though but twenty years of age, a major in Palafox's Hussars. When the news of Castaños' defeat arrived in Saragossa, Palafox had sent him off with the news to General Moore, and he boasted largely of his readiness to undertake, with only one servant, so perilous a ride. Not, he thought, that his servant would have been of much use had they come across the French; he would have had to trust to his own skill and courage, for the poor man had unfortunately lost an eye; still, he was a faithful fellow and a good forager.

Jack caught himself wondering what service the man could have rendered the master. It was scarcely in Miguel's character to allow a mere question of sentiment to outweigh the loss of an eye. Jack recalled his passion for display; he could not imagine him willingly accepting a one-eyed follower. This thought passed like a flash through Jack's mind while Miguel was proceeding to dilate complacently on the scenes of butchery and torture he had witnessed as he came through the country of the guerrilleros, who had no mercy on the stray Frenchmen they succeeded in ambushing. Jack at last gave utterance to an exclamation of disgust.

"Ah!" sneered Miguel, "that is your English squeamishness. You English have no nerves. What is the good of your coming out here? We will show you how to deal with these accursed Frenchmen, and if your stomach turns against it, well, go home to your nurses in little England, and play with your tin soldiers and toy guns, for you are no good in Spain."

Their arrival at the inn checked the reply that rose to Jack's lips. Don Miguel, in the same oily, languid tone that was causing Jack more and more irritation, ordered the landlord to make himself scarce, as he had important business to discuss with his friend, and in a few moments the two were left alone in the room. The Spaniard flung off his cloak, revealing the resplendent uniform of Palafox's Hussars, and as he removed his hat Jack noticed a long, livid scar running from his brow to his left eye, disfiguring what was otherwise a well-looking countenance so far as features were concerned.

"And how is your excellent father?" asked Miguel as he lolled in the only easy-chair in the room. "He is lucky, truly, for the stock in London is a good one, and he will do a good business, whereas with us these troubles have brought trade to a stand-still, and we are obliged to suspend all operations. But things will improve. Don Fernan, with his shrewd head for business, foresaw what would happen, and took steps to realize what he could on the stock before the outbreak of war, which was a very lucky thing for my father and myself and Juanita. And he could not have chosen a more convenient moment for dying, for—"

"For dying! Is Don Fernan dead?" cried Jack.

"Dead as a door-post, poor man! I thought you would be surprised to hear it. He had been ailing ever since his exertions in the siege of Saragossa last summer—there was something wrong with his heart, I think,—and when the news came that General Castaños had met with a mishap at Tudela, he held up his hands and cried: 'Oh my country! my poor country!' then fell forward and died. He was an old man, of course, and must have died soon, and I have only come a little sooner into the inheritance that was bound to come to me."

"Did Don Fernan appoint you his heir, then?" asked Jack with a keen look. "What about Juanita?"

"Does it not come to the same thing, my friend? Juanita, of course, is Don Fernan's heiress, but since in a little while, when the mourning is over, she will marry me—"

"Marry you!"

There was contempt as well as surprise in Jack's tone, and Miguel evidently felt this, for he replied with flashing eyes, though with no change in his bland manner:

"Yes, marry me—that was what I think I said. Of course if my good friend Jackino has any objection—"

"Good heavens! Juanita is a thousand times too good for you!" Jack blurted out.

"Quite so; she is a thousand times too good for any man. But since she does me the honour to become my wife, you will surely not have the impudence to question her choice, dear friend."

He hissed out the last sentence, and bent a little forward. Jack shrugged.

"She wasn't always so fond of you," he said bluntly.

"That is not the point, is it?" returned Miguel with an exasperating smile. "The match has long been talked of; Don Fernan and my father were agreed that it was an excellent arrangement for uniting the business interests of the two families. And now that Don Fernan is dead I shall marry Juanita as soon as possible, my father will retire, and I shall be the sole partner of your excellent father, for you, of course, have a soul much above business, and will no doubt ere long be a field-marshal. Perhaps, however, you have no ambition to earn fame in the open and heroic way? Your costume would suggest, my friend, that you are satisfied with a more modest and retiring part—but still, no doubt, profitable—"

"It seems to me, Miguel," said Jack, interrupting him very quietly, "that you have forgotten the last thrashing I gave you. Remember, I am always at your service. But I should not advise you to risk another scar like the one you have already. How," he added quickly, "did you come by that?"

Miguel's sullen face assumed a dusky hue, and the scar showed all the more livid. He flinched, as bullies will, before Jack's menacing attitude.

"Hot-tempered as ever," he said with an attempt to smile. "Why will you take offence so easily? What have I said? Here I find you, an Englishman, in Spanish dress, and I conclude, naturally enough, that you are fulfilling an office of very great importance and usefulness, and when I—"

"Now look here, Miguel, I don't want to quarrel with you, but you'd better understand at once that I'm not a child, and that your oily tongue won't do you any good with me. I don't suppose we shall see much more of each other; when—if—you marry Juanita you will settle down, I suppose, in Saragossa, and our paths won't cross. I tell you frankly I'm astonished that Juanita will have you; but she's old enough to know her own mind—though our girls in England don't marry so early—and I hope with all my heart she'll be happy. And now I think I'd better say good-night!"

"And good-bye!" said Miguel sweetly. "I will carry your good wishes to Juanita, be sure of that."

"Where is she, by the way?" asked Jack.

"In Saragossa, with her aunt the Doña Teresa."

"And you are returning immediately?"

"Oh no! I go on to-morrow towards Leon, with despatches for the Marquis of La Romana. The Spanish generals will have to strike a blow without the assistance of your General Moore, it appears."

Jack ignored the sneer.

"Well, good-bye!" he said. "There's no need to suggest that you should take care the French don't catch you."

"True, true, Jackino. Give my respects, when you see him, to your excellent father, to whom I hope to have before long the honour of sending the documents relative to the changes in the business. Adios, amigo mio!"

He accompanied Jack to the door, and looked after him with a mocking smile. Jack, pulling his cloak more closely around him, and his sombrero lower over his eyes, walked rapidly to his quarters, where, proceeding directly to his room, he threw himself upon his bed with a sigh of weariness and contentment.

But it was long before the much-needed sleep came to him. He lay awake, unable to keep his thoughts from running round the circle of his adventures and dwelling on his unexpected meeting with Miguel. The more he thought of his conversation with that gentleman the more puzzled he felt. As a child, Juanita had shrunk from the boy and had never willingly gone into his presence. It was very odd that she should have overcome her dislike and now be ready to marry him. Perhaps she still disliked him, and had agreed to the match merely because it was desired by Don Fernan and Miguel's father, Don Esteban. But even then it was extraordinary, for Don Fernan himself had never shown any liking for Miguel, and had indeed on many occasions taken him severely to task and punished him for acts of deceit and dishonesty. Miguel did not appear to Jack to have changed: what had altered Don Fernan's opinion of him? Then, too, there was Don Fernan's letter, in which he had spoken of his anxiety on behalf of his daughter. Why, if he were satisfied with the proposed match, should he be anxious about her future? And what had General Palafox to do with all this? Miguel was the general's trusted messenger; could Palafox have influenced Don Fernan's judgment? Jack wished he could go to Saragossa, and enquire for himself into all the circumstances—see Juanita, and discover whether she were in truth a willing bride. And then he thought of the phrase Don Fernan had so carefully impressed upon his memory: "Palafox the man, Palafox the name," and with this repeating itself to the hundredth time in his weary brain he at length fell asleep, and slept on until he was awakened about ten o'clock next morning by loud cries in the street.

Springing from bed, he ran to the window. Men were waving their hats, women their fans and handkerchiefs. At every window there was a fluttering scarf. Loud vivas rose into the air as an officer in full uniform, followed by a gorgeously-dressed orderly, clattered by.

The officer smiled with gratification at the warmth of the cheers, and kissed his hand gallantly to the ladies who peeped at him out of their mantillas. Jack smiled satirically.

"Pooh! It's only Don Miguel Priego! Confound the sneak!"

He was about to withdraw, when the orderly turned his head to the left, as though seeking a share of the admiration so lavishly bestowed on his superior. Jack noticed that one eye-socket was closed; the man's remaining eye had a curiously malign glitter that gave the beholder a strange sense of uneasiness.

"Is this how people feel when they talk of the evil eye?" he said to himself with an unmirthful laugh. Then he donned his own clothes and went gloomily downstairs to find his brother officers.

CHAPTER IX

Some Surprises

At the Cross-Roads—A Mêlée—Bagged—Franceschi's Chasseurs—Under Guard—A Hard Case—Moore's Plans—Reconnoitring—Within the Gates—Caged—Blind Man's Buff—A Strategic Move—A Dash on Rueda—An Alarm—A Chase in the Dark—A Tragedy

About two o'clock on a frosty December afternoon, some ten days after Jack Lumsden's return to Salamanca, four riders were walking their horses up a slight incline about three miles out of Alaejos towards Valladolid. Three of them were troopers in the 18th Light Dragoons, the fourth, riding slightly in advance of the rest, was Jack himself, now wearing his own uniform, and mounted on a fine black charger borrowed from the regiment to which his companions belonged. A few yards from the crest of the hill, lying back from the road, was a mean-looking hovel at the door of which stood a little black-eyed girl, who watched the advancing riders with her finger in her mouth.

"Hullo, little girl," said Jack in Spanish, pulling up as he came abreast of her, "are we on the right road for Tordesillas?"

The child gave a scared look at the troopers and fled into the hut without replying.

"You've sent the timid little beggar into her burrow," said Jack with a smile. At the same moment a heavy-browed man appeared at the door, in the rough coat and thick gaiters of a muleteer.

"Ha, my friend," said Jack in a genial tone, "your little daughter needn't have been afraid of us! Are we going right for Tordesillas?"

"Straight on, Señor," replied the man, with stolid countenance. "Over the river; you can't miss your way."

"Thanks! Any sign of the French hereabout?"

"Never a man—the saints forbid!" said the man with a scowl. "They carried off my last pig six months ago. Gr-r-r! I hate them!"

"Well, they won't trouble you much longer if we can help it. Buenas tardes!"

"Vaya usted con Dios, Señor!" replied the muleteer, doffing his hat; and as the Englishman rode off, his little daughter came to his side and watched with him their retreating figures.

A mile farther on they had just crossed the stream of which the man had spoken, when Jack suddenly reined up his horse and in a low tone ordered his men to halt.

"Do you hear anything, Kelly?" he asked of one of the troopers.

The man turned his head aside, and his companions sat motionless, an expectant look upon their faces.

"Riders, sir!" said Kelly in a moment.

"I thought so," returned Jack. "To our right, eh?"

"Yes, sir."

There was a moment's silence. Behind them came a slight murmur from the full river, but more distinctly, from some distant point beyond a wall-enclosed orchard on their right, sounded the unmistakable clatter of horses' hoofs on the hard road.

"Wait here," said Jack, springing from his horse. "Don't make a sound. I'm going forward to reconnoitre. Hold my horse's rein, Kelly, and don't let him champ his bit."

He ran forward, round a slight bend in the road. In two minutes he was back.

"Men," he said in a low voice, "there's a road to the right, and half a dozen Frenchmen riding down towards us. I think they're French—by their helmets. We four are a match for the six, eh?"

The men grinned.

Jack rapidly took stock of the situation. The wind was almost due east; he and his men were riding north-east, and as they were the smaller party, and had been travelling only at walking pace, it was not likely that the enemy had heard them coming. The idea of dismounting his men and forming an ambuscade at first suggested itself. Jack glanced round for a convenient tree or post to which they might tether the horses; but though there were plenty of trees beyond the orchard wall, the only way in was a quarter of a mile to their rear. This meant that even if the ambuscade were successful two at least of the enemy would be almost certain to escape, for Jack and his men, with three carbines and a pistol, could at the best only account for four at the first volley, and the remaining two would have a start of half a mile before they could be pursued. On the other hand, if Jack told off a man to hold the horses, his striking force would be reduced to three, and there was always the risk that two of the horses—young Spanish chargers purchased at Salamanca and only half-trained—would break away at the sound of the firing. For these reasons Jack preferred to trust to cold steel.

Giving his commands almost in a whisper, he drew up his men in line under cover of the wall, about thirty yards from the cross-road, ordering them to be in readiness to charge at the word. Each man silently drew his sabre and Jack uncovered his sword, still fresh as when he received it from the makers in Pall Mall. It was not perhaps quite so suitable for the purpose in hand as the weapons carried by the troopers, but Jack knew that it was of the highest temper, and felt confident that it would not fail him.

In little more than a minute the increasing clatter showed that the unsuspecting Frenchmen were approaching the cross-roads. There was no slackening of pace as they neared the junction, and Jack inferred from this that their route lay straight across the main road towards Castroduno or Toro. Every second seemed like a minute to him as he waited for the horsemen to arrive, but after what seemed an interminable delay two helmets at last appeared beyond the angle of the wall. Jack drove his spurs into his horse, giving the word "Charge!" and, with their leader a pace or two in advance, the three troopers dashed forward. In a few seconds the two bodies met with a terrific shock. The French dragoons, unable to check their progress, had just had time to draw their sabres; the leading files had half-wheeled their horses to meet the storm, but the two succeeding troopers were taken square on the flank, and all the advantage of momentum being on the side of the attacking force, the whole four went down like a ship struck by a squall. Almost before Jack could realize what had happened he was reining in his horse on the far side of the cross-road; three of the Frenchmen were lying motionless on the road, a fourth, dismounted, was defending himself with spirit against one of Jack's troopers, and three horses were scampering wildly towards Toro. He was wheeling his horse round, when, almost at the same moment, two bullets whizzed past his head. The two remaining Frenchmen had halted before reaching the cross-road, rapidly fired their carbines, and, turning round in the direction from which they had come, were now galloping wildly away.

"After them, Kelly!" shouted Jack to the corporal, who was just beside him; and, leaving the other two troopers to secure the dismounted Frenchmen, the two dashed off at a mad gallop. They were a hundred yards behind at the start; the Frenchmen were down upon their horses' necks, shouting to the beasts in a fever of haste. But as luck would have it, they were heavy men; Jack was a light-weight, and before the chase had proceeded for two hundred yards he began to gain, and the interval between himself and Kelly was increasing. Foot by foot he made up on his quarry; in little more than a mile he was at the heels of the rearmost Frenchman. The man, feeling that he was at a disadvantage, suddenly swerved towards the near side of the road, bending low as he did so to avoid Jack's blow, and then, as Jack darted past, pulled his horse on his haunches and wheeled round to meet Kelly. Thinking he could safely leave this man to the heavy trooper, Jack rode on after the Frenchman in front, and within a couple of minutes had him at his mercy. The dragoon had no time to turn and meet his pursuer; with a horse of superior speed, Jack, coming up behind him, had a terrible advantage over the fugitive, who was painfully twisting himself round in the saddle to meet the expected blow. Choosing his opportunity, Jack, dropping his own sword, wrested the Frenchman's sabre from his grasp, and next moment drove him into the hedge.

"Je me rends! je me rends!" cried the Frenchman, panting.

"Comme de juste!" gasped Jack, who then turned to see how Kelly was faring. He had ridden down and over the luckless dragoon, who, rising painfully to his feet, called for quarter. Being a strapping fellow, the trooper had been unable to do more than maintain his distance from the second Frenchman, who, however, seeing Jack now standing full in his path, recognized that the game was up, checked his horse, and quietly surrendered his sword just as Kelly came bustling to his side.

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