Part 30

The whole incident had passed rapidly, but General Chabot, with the readiness of an old campaigner, bent forward to clutch the near rein of the maddened horse. His own horse swerving at the critical moment, he missed his grip and himself almost overbalanced, and though he at once spurred his charger into a gallop, endeavouring to unbutton the holsters containing his pistols, the fugitive had gained at least twenty yards before the pursuer's horse settled into its stride.

Jack almost shouted with glee as he lay forward on his horse's neck and got his feet into the stirrups, expecting every moment that a hail of bullets would come flying after him. But, hearing the clatter of the general's horse behind, he lifted himself and laughed, and began to hum a song he remembered Shirley was fond of:

"Oh, who will o'er the downs so free, Oh, who will with me ride, Oh, who will up and follow me--"

The general was up and following him, but he cared nothing for that. Not a shade of misgiving crossed his exultation. While the general pursued him he was safe. The group of French soldiers in the square had rushed to their arms, but were unable to fire, for General Chabot was between them and the fugitive. Colonel de Ferussat, purple to the verge of apoplexy, was spluttering with rage and pain, intensified by the evident delight of the Spanish officers, who, forgetting that they were in the man's power, were openly laughing at him. In the street, meanwhile, soldiers and civilians alike cleared out of the way of the dashing horsemen, not realizing at first what had happened. When they did understand, Jack was beyond their reach. He could not stop to choose his course. He urged his steed straight along the road, out at the north gate of the town, into the country of vineyard and olive grove, gaining on his pursuer, even steadying his horse somewhat when he found that the beautiful and spirited animal had the heels of the general's charger. Chabot must have recognized this, but with dogged pertinacity he held on for nearly two miles, only desisting from the chase when he found that his horse was failing. Then he discharged his pistol; the shot flew wide. Jack turned on the saddle and swept off his sombrero in ironical salutation; and as the Frenchman drew rein, Jack jogged the heaving flanks of his steed with his spurless boots, and cantered gaily off into the dusk.

*CHAPTER XXX*

*The Whip Hand*

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

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

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

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

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

Cautiously enquiring his way at cottages along the road, he arrived in about three hours at the outskirts of the township of Agreda. It was necessary to pass through the place. He thought it more than likely that the French would have a garrison there, for the mountain ranges beyond were the haunt of several guerrilla bands which the enemy were making spirited but ineffectual efforts to keep in check. He therefore rode in, with one pistol cocked in his right hand, and the holster of the other unbuttoned, in readiness for any emergency.

The moon was rising, and Jack, as he passed through the principal street, noticed that narrow lanes led out from it on both sides, presumably towards the vineyards with which the surrounding valley was covered. His horse trod silently on the roadway, owing to a thick bed of last year's leaves placed upon it by the people, for the purpose of making manure. There was no light in any of the houses; everybody appeared to have retired to rest, and Jack was congratulating himself on having reached the last house, when he came suddenly upon five mounted French carabineers, with drawn swords, blocking the street. They had apparently just come into the town from the other end, on a reconnoitring expedition. They saw him at the same moment, and with a shout dashed forward. With only his two pistols to rely on, Jack chose the discreet part, and instantly wheeled his horse round to the right into one of the lanes, in which there was no more than space for one rider to pass. It was a steep ascent, and his horse, gallantly breasting the hill, showed signs of fatigue natural after the long distance already travelled. Something must be done to check the pursuit, for if the Frenchmen had fresh horses they were bound to run him down as soon as they drew out of the lane Springing from his horse where the path opened into the vineyards, he fired at the leading man, who was within a few yards of him, and then, with some compunction, discharged his second pistol at the trooper's horse. It fell. There was a cry, followed by confused shouts. Jack quietly remounted, and threaded his way through the vineyards, bearing to the left until he struck a road that appeared to lead in the direction he wished to go. He looked cautiously about, in case his recent assailants had belonged to a scattered party. Finding no trace of an enemy, he sped on his way.

The road was rocky and uneven, winding among the hills, which showed bare and ghostly in the increasing moonlight. After riding on for some six or seven miles, wondering where he was going and how long his horse would hold out, he was passing by the brink of a ravine overhung by a dark wall of rock, when in a narrow cleft to the right he fancied he saw a glimmer of artificial light. At once dismounting, he led his horse towards it, carefully picking his way over the rough ground. At the end of the narrow defile he came to a venta of rough-hewn stone, with large casements, all of which were closed with wooden shutters. The light he had seen proceeded from a round knot-hole in the shutter of one of the rooms on the ground-floor. The hole was higher than his head. Remounting, he drew his horse sideways to the house, and, stooping, put his eye to the peep-hole. He saw a spacious room, part kitchen, part dining-room, and part dormitory, to judge from the dirty mattresses spread here and there on the floor. In the centre of the wall to the right was an immense chimney-piece, where a pile of pine-logs were crackling and blazing merrily. Over the fire two huge black kettles were suspended, and in front a long iron spit, garnished with fowls and goats'-flesh, was turned by a miserable-looking dog, which, perched against the wall in a wooden barrel, must have suffered both from the heat and from the tread-mill work it was forced to do.

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

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

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

"Quien vive?"

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

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

"Verdaderamente, Senor," replied the guerrillero, recognizing from Jack's tone that he had a caballero to deal with. In a few minutes the horse was stabled, and Jack was seated at the table, partaking of the savoury stew poured bubbling from the chaldron, and answering the men's eager questions about the end of the siege of Saragossa. They belonged to the band of which Pablo Quintanar and Antonio had been the leaders, and were burning with anxiety as to the fate of those sturdy guerrilleros. Many a deep growl of rage and indignation burst from them when they learnt of Quintanar's treason, many a sigh of satisfaction when they heard of his fate; and when they knew that Antonio had come safely through the siege, they were all confident that somehow or other he would escape from the French, and hasten to rejoin them in their mountain fastnesses.

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

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

Spring had set in unusually early this year, and as Jack rode through the lanes he rejoiced in the bright sunshine and the scent of lavender and rosemary, violets and narcissus, that filled the warm air. He reached the villa at dusk. It stood half-way up a hill, in a walled garden, amid luxuriant foliage of laurels. On three sides the garden wall was approached by the young growth of olive plantations. The house itself was a long low building of white stone, mellowed by age and weather. A broad oak balcony ran round, sheltering the ground-floor rooms from the sun's rays; and amid its massive columns creeping plants, already in full leaf, pushed their way towards the roof. As Jack rode up, the odours of honeysuckle and clematis greeted his nostrils, and he noted the small white stars of the jessamine glittering among their narrow dark-green leaves.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Who are you? I am a friend."

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

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

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

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

When Antonio had explained to the others who Jack was, their enthusiasm knew no bounds. The Saragossa veterans had already told them what their English leader had accomplished during the siege; how theirs had been the only quarter in the city in which the French had made no progress during the last three weeks. Antonio now waxed eloquent on the same theme, and wound up by commanding his men to serve the Senor as they would their own captain.

If anything had been wanting to complete his welcome it would have been supplied by the news he brought. Antonio no sooner heard that a French foraging-party was in the neighbourhood than he decided to cut it off. He was anxious to start immediately and ambush it on its way back to the house, but Jack suggested a better plan. The country around the house, being, though hilly, fairly open, presented little opportunity for a successful ambuscade, and in the event of the guerrilla troop being discovered, there would be great likelihood of the majority of the enemy escaping. It would be better, Jack suggested, to surround the house at night; not a Frenchman should then escape. Antonio at once agreed. He said that he would leave the planning entirely to the Senor, which, Jack thought, was as it should be; for Antonio, though a brave and dashing leader of a storming-party, had little claim but that of bull-dog courage to his position as captain.

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

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

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

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

"Very well, Senor."

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

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

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

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

Half a mile farther on they came to the wooded hollow of which Jack had spoken. The horses were left there as arranged, and the guerrilleros, headed by Jack and Antonio, advanced cautiously up the hill to within three hundred yards of the house. By the light of the rising moon two sentinels could be seen standing at the front gate, between which and the house lay fifty feet of flower-garden. Jack wondered whether sentries had been placed on the other sides, but judged from the evident carelessness of the French that that precaution had not improbably been neglected. There was no cover for the attacking force beyond about two hundred and fifty yards from the gates, but at both sides the plantations would conceal them. The guerrilleros stole into the shade of the trees; the main body remained at the corner of the wall ready to attack in front; smaller parties worked round the sides, until the whole enclosure was practically surrounded.

Jack accompanied the party which had gone to the wall facing the rear of the house. Under cover of the overhanging branches of a chestnut he climbed over the wall, which was about eight feet high. No sentry was posted at the back of the house. In a few minutes Jack had run up the garden and come to the back-door. Already he had heard sounds of merriment proceeding from the house. He placed his ear against the door, listening for footsteps within. Hearing nothing in the vicinity, he lifted the latch and slipped inside, finding himself in a large square stone-floored room, which had evidently been used as a storehouse for the gardener's tools. At the far side of the room was a door leading, as he knew, to the corridor surrounding the patio. As he cautiously opened this door his ears were saluted by a deafening babel from a room on the right, opening on to the corridor. To judge by the sounds, a large party of French troopers were there enjoying their evening meal. Shouts of laughter were mingled with bursts of song and the clatter of knives and crockery. The patio was pitch dark save where a beam of light fell across it from a window of the room on the right, and another from the kitchen on the opposite side. Hugging the rear wall of the patio, Jack made his way cautiously across its tiled floor to the window of the kitchen. A door opened into the kitchen from the corridor, opposite to the middle one of the three arches in the colonnade of the patio. Keeping well in the shadow, Jack saw several Frenchmen leave the kitchen carrying dishes and flagons, and cross the patio to the room whence the boisterous sounds were proceeding. He saw also another man, a tall fellow, whom in the half-light he seemed to recognize, carry a dish into a room at the farther end of the corridor, and close the door behind him. While the door was open Jack heard a burst of song from within. Evidently some of the Frenchmen were also regaling themselves there.

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

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

"In the room at the end, Senor."

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