Chapter X: Part 10

"Senor's gift; should it get wet? Never. I got into the water; not the watch. No, I put it on one of the thwarts. We got out of the boat. Senor went so fast that I forgot the watch. It was Senor's fault. I went back for it, Senor; I got it; then when I came away--ha! I hear the march of men. I stop; I hide; all day long from my deep hole I see the French shoot with their big guns across the river. I wait; I think, what if Senor is dead? I wish I had come with him, and let the watch get wet. Then, wonder of wonders! the Busne drive the French back. They go by my hole; one falls; then all is quiet, and I steal out and get these things from the dead man, and I come in and have Senor as well as the watch."

Jack could hardly find fault with the boy for wishing to preserve his own gift. Explaining to Tio Jorge that Pepito was a servant of his, he turned to resume his interrupted journey northward, and bade Pepito follow him closely.

*CHAPTER XXI*

*Night on the Ramparts*

The Cafe Arcos--The Story of the Siege--Perfervour--An Oath--The Casa Alvarez--The Missing Sentry--Through the Lines--Miguel Enters Saragossa--Don Casimir is Astonished--Moonshine

On arriving with Tio Jorge at the Aljafferia Castle, Jack found that Palafox had already received from Santiago Sass news of the excellent work done in the south-eastern quarter of the city. But Tio Jorge insisted on telling the story again, and dwelt with enthusiasm on the part the English Senor had played--his idea to scale the roofs, and his intrepidity in fighting by the barricades. The big Spaniard loved a hard fighter, and Jack could have found no surer way to his confidence and respect.

"Excellent! excellent!" cried Palafox; "you came to us most opportunely, Senor. And let me tell you, the good opinion of our brave Tio Jorge is itself the highest praise. Would to God that our success had been as certain at other points! Unhappily, the French have exploded mines in the neighbourhood of Santa Engracia, and the most heroic efforts of our men have failed to dislodge them from the ground they have gained. Unhappily, also, Don Hernando de Solas, my valiant lieutenant there, was shot as he led his men for the tenth time to the assault, and I have no one whom I can conveniently send to take his place."

"Send the English Senor," cried Tio Jorge instantly. "He has shown what he can do; he is an officer who has served with the great Sir Moore; he is the very man for the post."

Palafox looked for a moment doubtfully at Jack's youthful face.

"You are young yourself, Don Jose," added Tio Jorge, divining his general's reluctance. "Por Dios! was there ever before a captain-general so young!"

"It is an arduous post," said Palafox. "Just now it has to bear the brunt of the French attack, I fear. But you have shown valour and resource, Senor Lumsden; will you undertake the command of Don Hernando's district?"

"I will do my best, Senor, if you entrust it to me."

He spoke quietly, but his pulse leapt at the thought of the work opening before him. Accepting the general's offer with alacrity, he set off in a few minutes with Tio Jorge, who had offered to introduce him to his men, and procure for him a Spanish uniform to replace his soiled garments. As they were hastening along the Coso, crowded with people now that the day's fighting had ceased, Tio Jorge stopped at the door of a big cafe.

"You must be famished, Senor," he said. "You have had nothing but a bite and a sup all day. Here is the cafe of my friend Jorge Arcos; let us enter. When we have eaten and drunk it will be time to seek the ramparts."

Jack was nothing loth. In a few minutes he was seated amid a crowd of ardent Saragossans, whose blackened features and soiled garments bespoke the part they had played in the defence of their city. Jorge Arcos himself, a robust and lusty Spaniard, attended to Jack's wants when he had learnt from Tio Jorge that the young Senor was an English officer who had done good work that day, and been entrusted by Palafox with the Santa Engracia command. The big host, as well as the miscellaneous company in the room, looked somewhat askance at the weird figure of Pepito, who had closely followed his master. His garb showed him to be one of the despised and outcast gitanos; but on Jack's explaining that the boy had been of service to him, Arcos shrugged, and brought him some food and diluted wine, which the hungry little fellow despatched with gusto.

As he ate, Jack fell into conversation with his host, and showed a curiosity to learn something of the earlier history of the siege. The mere suggestion was enough to set the man's tongue wagging. He evidently loved the sound of his own voice, and he owed indeed much of his popularity with the citizens to his rough-and-ready eloquence.

"A remarkable siege, you say, Senor?" he said. "It is, in truth; never was such a siege since the world began! And 'tis not the first time the French pack of wolves has come to eat us. Last year, by the favour of Our Lady of the Pillar, we escaped their greedy jaws; and now also again they shall rue the day they came a-hunting. For six weeks we have withstood them; 'tis six weeks since they began to throw their bombs and balls into our midst. Aha! and on the second day after, they sent a man to summon us to surrender. Surrender! Little they knew Don Jose Palafox, little they knew the hearts of our people--of Tio Jorge here, and Tio Marin, of the padres Don Basilio and Santiago Sass and Consolacion; aye, and of our noble ladies and of our poor folks such as I myself. Surrender! Why, our people well-nigh tore the French messenger in pieces! We knew they were coming to invest us; did they think we should open our gates or that our walls would fall flat as the walls of Jericho? Por Dios!"

He uttered a scornful guffaw, and shouts of approval broke from the crowd.

"No, no. We had warning; the people from the countryside came flocking in--workers in olive groves and vineyards, potters from the villages, swineherds and muleteers--and Don Jose gave them each his task, and with our own people they toiled night and day to make our city strong. Men and women and children, sixty thousand of us, we wrought upon the ramparts. Some carried earth in baskets, others plied the spade, others went into the outskirts with picks and axes, and levelled houses and orchards until, for half a mile round, the country was as bare as my table here, a level waste on which no enemy could find a wall or tree to shelter him. Thus we strengthened our defences, building bastions and raising mounds, till the whole city was encircled with strong ramparts from the Ebro to the Huerba.

"And all this time our people were gathering food--great stores of corn and maize, oil and fish; and some were making powder and bullets, and others were building barriers across the streets with timber and sand-bags, so that if the accursed French did break through our walls we could still fight from street to street, as you have seen to-day, Senor."

"Yes, but they are gaining ground; how can we hold out longer, Jorge Arcos?" said a voice in the crowd.

Arcos glared around and smote upon the table.

"Where is that coward?" he cried passionately. "Where is he? For whom does the gibbet stand in the Coso? Is it not there for cowards, and weaklings, and traitors, and all who talk of surrender? Hold out longer! We have only begun. The French have got in here and there--well, what of that? Every house captured costs them a day; and every day brings our triumph nearer. Have we not ample food? Is there a wretch in Saragossa who complains of hunger? Set him before me; let me see his face; he shall prove his words here in my presence, or--" He made a significant gesture, and continued: "No, we are not hungry; we can hold out for months; and meanwhile friends are hastening to our succour. North and south, east and west, armies are collecting. The French shall be hemmed round like pigs for the butcher; the February rains shall descend and flood their trenches; and by the grace of Our Lady of the Pillar we shall be able once again to foil the plans of the Corsican dog, and the men of Aragon will set such an example to the men of Andalusia and Castile, of Leon and Estremadura, of Catalonia and Navarre, that no Frenchman shall be left alive between the mountains and the sea."

Loud vivas rang through the room as Arcos brought his oration to a close. It was no surprise to Jack to hear such a speech from the lips of an ordinary cafe-keeper--every Spaniard is an orator,--but he by no means shared the speaker's assurance. The influx of so many people from the country must have swelled the population far beyond its normal limit. Overcrowding involved disease; the encroachments of the French must constantly narrow the habitable region; in the exposed parts only the vaults and cellars would be safe from bombardment; and while the operations of war claimed their full tale of victims, Jack feared that pestilence would carry off still more. But he said not a word of his apprehensions, and soon afterwards, bidding his host and the company a cordial adieu, he left with Tio Jorge and Pepito.

They passed the Franciscan convent beyond the Coso, cut through narrow tortuous side streets, each barricaded and guarded, passed the Capuchin nunnery, and came at length to the district of Santa Engracia, in which a few days before the French had gained a lodgment by sapping and mining and direct assault. As they passed along a street from which the French had been driven at the point of the bayonet, but which was now a mere heap of charred and smoking ruins, Jack saw a young lady standing before the smouldering embers of one of the houses. By her side was a little boy. The lady, who could not have been more than twenty-five years of age, was pale and haggard, and gazed upon the ruins of her home like a very statue of sorrow. As Tio Jorge and Jack came up to her, they heard her talking to the boy in low fierce tones.

"It is the Dona Mercedes Ortega," said Tio Jorge half to himself. "What is the matter, Senora?" he asked.

She turned and threw back her mantilla. Jack had never seen a face in which utter woe and desolation was so piteously imprinted. Her eyelids were swollen with weeping; her eyes blazed out of dark sunken rims; her lips were quivering.

"That was my home," she said in an agony of grief that Jack never forgot. "My husband lies there, and my father. My brothers died on the ramparts; my little girl died of fever in my arms. Only Juanino is left, only Juanino, he and I; we are alone--alone--alone!"

Jack turned away; there was a mist before his eyes. Then suddenly the woman's tone changed from grief to rage. Her next words seemed to bite into Jack's soul.

"Stay, Senor!" she cried; "stay, Tio Jorge! I call you to witness what I teach my Juanino. Yes, I teach him; he will never forget; it is for a mother to teach her son his duty. He shall be a scourge to all the accursed race. He shall kill, kill, kill, knowing no rest till he join his father--his father whom the French have killed!"

The boy looked up in her face with eyes of terror.

"Put your hands together," she continued, "and swear that henceforth, in war or peace, at home or abroad, in the street or in the field, you will kill every Frenchman you may meet, kill without mercy or ruth, and thus avenge me and all your house. Swear, Juanino!"

Jack shuddered as he heard the little fellow, whose age was perhaps seven years, repeat the terrible oath his frantic mother demanded of him. At that moment the horrors of war were brought home to Jack's mind more forcibly than ever before; nothing in the terrible retreat to Corunna had been so terrible as the picture of the young widow's desolate grief and passionate longing for vengeance.

He passed on, with Tio Jorge and Pepito, into a small plaza out of which several narrow streets radiated. The place was familiar to him, and a few steps farther on he recognized the Casa Alvarez, and remembered, what he had forgotten till now, that the house of his old friend stood almost within a stone's-throw of the Santa Engracia convent.

"This was the head-quarters of Don Hernando," said Tio Jorge. "You had better make it yours also, Senor."

"Yes. But let us go on to the ramparts now. I want to see the position, and the men. Do you know, by the by, what has become of the family of Don Fernan Alvarez? The old Senor himself is dead."

"I cannot tell you, Senor. He was a good man, was Don Fernan. He had one daughter; was it not so? But they were far above a poor man like me, and I know nothing about the Senorita."

Jack felt a curious pleasure in knowing that the Casa Alvarez was in his own district, and would actually be his head-quarters. Hastening down the street towards the walls, he enquired whether the ramparts were manned in force at night in anticipation of attack during the hours of darkness. Tio Jorge informed him that the French had not risked a night attack in force since the beginning of the siege. They continued their mining operations, but they had found it so difficult to make headway above-ground, even in the daylight, that actual assaults and fighting seldom or never occurred between dark and dawn. The ramparts were therefore guarded by a sufficient number of sentries, but not occupied in force, the defenders being only too glad to recruit their overtaxed energies with sleep. When Jack arrived at the wall he found sentries posted at intervals of a few yards. He learnt from Tio Jorge that his command extended from the Santa Engracia convent some fifty yards to the north, where it adjoined the Porta Quemada district under the charge of a personal friend of Palafox, Don Casimir Ulloa. It happened that Don Casimir was making a round of his sentries before leaving for the night, and to him Jack was introduced by Tio Jorge at the point where their commands met. Tio Jorge then took his leave, promising to call at the Casa Alvarez on the way back, and see that a room was arranged for the Senor's occupation.

"Is all quiet to-night, Senor?" asked Jack, after the first compliments had passed.

"Yes; nothing has happened since the French blew up a house by the Santa Engracia convent just before dark. But one thing puzzles me, Senor. Do you know this part of the city?"

"I was here once before, but that was six years ago, and I was too much a child then to remember it well now."

"But you will know that beyond the wall here, which has been greatly strengthened and thickened, the ground slopes steeply down to the River Huerba. You can see it; the water shines in the moonlight. On the other side of the ravine, at the top, are the French trenches."

"I see. What puzzles you, Senor?"

"I am coming to it. Every night for ten days past I have been at this spot at this hour, and every night I have either seen or heard a French sentry exactly opposite. To-night, however, there is a difference. At dusk we saw the Frenchman tramping up and down behind the trench, just out of range of your good English muskets, Senor; we heard the guard changed; but a few minutes ago, when I looked, I found that the sentry had disappeared. Perhaps my eyes are at fault. Will you look, Senor?"

Jack looked across the ravine. A pale half-moon was shining, as yet somewhat low in the sky, and the ravine and river-bed were gloomed by black shadows. The line of the entrenchments showed rugged against the background, in which watch-fires here and there marked the night bivouac of the French. From the far distance came faint and fitful noises; the gurgling wash of the river against its embankments made the only sound in the vicinity. Jack ran his eyes along the edge of the entrenchment for a hundred yards in each direction. Certainly no sentinel was in sight.

"Perhaps he is resting," he remarked. "There is no need for him to tramp up and down in sight all the time."

"True, Senor, but why to-night? Why on this night should we miss what we have seen without exception for many nights past?"

"It is certainly strange. I shouldn't think it implied any particular danger of an attack; should you?"

At this moment Pepito touched him on the arm.

"Something crawling, Senor!" he said.

He pointed across the river towards a spot in deep shadow half-way down the opposite slope. Jack looked in that direction, but failed to perceive any moving object.

"You are mistaken, Pepito," he said.

The gipsy was stretched now at full length on the wall, peering, with his hands arching his eyes, into the darkness.

"A man crawling!" he whispered. "See!"

Jack and Don Casimir followed the boy's example, and, keeping the moonlight from their eyes, at length discerned a dark figure crawling slowly down the steep. A moment later, all three caught sight of a second figure following at a short interval the first.

"They are coming within range," whispered Don Casimir. "I will order my men to shoot."

"Stay!" said Jack quickly. "Let us wait. Pass the word along the sentries not to shoot if they see two men approaching. Two men will not overpower us and capture the city, Senor; there is something puzzling, as you say, in all this. We must find out what it means."

The men had now reached the foot of the opposite slope. On the ramparts several pairs of eyes were watching them eagerly. At the brink of the river they halted for a moment, then stepped into the water. Jack looked questioningly at Don Casimir.

"Yes," said the latter, "the Huerba is fordable here."

Two figures were wading through the water. They gained the nearer bank; they climbed up. When on dry land again they no longer crawled, but clambered as rapidly as might be up the steep ascent to the wall. Jack felt growing interest and excitement as they came up foot by foot, with no attempt at concealment. They were within four yards of the wall.

"Quien vive?" asked Don Casimir in clear low tones.

"Silencio!" said the first of the two figures, holding up a warning hand. "I am a friend; help me up."

The wall was some fourteen feet in height, and there was no apparent means of assisting the man below.

"If two of your men let down their muskets, I can catch hold of them," said the man in a whisper.

The hint was acted on. Don Casimir beckoned up two of his men, who laid themselves flat on the wall, lowering their muskets until the man below was able to grasp a barrel in each hand. Then they gradually drew up the weapons hand over hand, and the man with them. Don Casimir, with drawn sword, kept a sharp look-out to assure himself that the new-comers were alone, and that this strange incident was not part of a French plot to rush the wall.

In half a minute the spokesman was standing beside the little group.

"Do I see Don Casimir?" he said, looking keenly at the Spaniard, who had given a start of recognition as his features came into view above the parapet.

"Yes, Senor," replied Don Casimir with a bow. "This is a strange meeting."

"Strange indeed! Ah, what an hour it has been! I thought we should never have got through. Turn where we would, the French seemed to have sentries everywhere."

"Except yonder, Don Miguel," said Jack quietly, coming a little more distinctly into view.

Miguel made a quick turn at the sound of his voice, and with a scarcely perceptible pause said:

"Ah! my dear young friend, who would have thought of seeing you here? What a pleasant meeting! Yes, as you say, except yonder. But, as it happens, the sentry yonder is now keeping guard in another world." He tapped the hilt of his sword significantly. "We were not in the mood to brook delay, and he was--well, one Frenchman the less."

"All the same, they have replaced him pretty soon," remarked Jack dryly, "unless that is his ghost."

He pointed, as he spoke, to the form of a sentry leaning on his musket at the spot that had been described to him by Don Casimir as the customary post.

"It is strange," replied Miguel musingly; "one might have expected a commotion--when they found the body. But, yes--no doubt they hush these things up. It would reflect on their discipline."

Don Casimir, who had been looking from one to the other in some astonishment, here interposed.

"But--do I understand, Don Miguel, that you have come through the French lines?"

"Why, certainly, my friend; how else should I be here? We are from Seville, from the Supreme Junta, with despatches. We have ridden post-haste four hundred and fifty miles in six days, as my friend here must know, and by a miracle have succeeded in eluding the wolves yonder. But that reminds me--I should lose no time in delivering my despatches to the captain-general. I suppose he is still in the Aljafferia? How goes it in Saragossa? I fear you have been hard pressed."

"Yes, indeed," replied Don Casimir. "But the pack of wolves outside is being thinned. Every yard costs a man."

"Ah! I shall have much to hear," said Miguel, with a meaning look at Jack; "and on my side I have not a little to tell. Adios, Senores!"

With a low bow he turned away, followed by his companion, whom Jack had at once recognized, when he gained the summit of the wall, as the one-eyed servitor of evil memory. There was no look of recognition in the man's fixed stare as he left the group a few paces behind his master. Jack, however, was amused to note the attitude of Pepito, who stood fingering his little knife with an air of tragedy worthy of Mr. Kean himself.

"It was a daring feat," said Don Casimir, looking into the moonlit distance as if gauging the difficulties that must have beset any attempt to approach Saragossa from that side. "Indeed, except yourself, I believe no one has got in for at least three weeks past. But we have always known Don Miguel as a match for any Frenchman. He gave many proofs of astuteness during the first siege. He is not easy to beat when readiness and resourcefulness are needed. It is strange," he added after an interval, during which his eye rested on the figure of the French sentry, "very strange. I could have sworn it is the same man--the man I missed an hour ago. But, of course, it cannot be."

"The moonlight may be deceptive," suggested Jack; but as he left the spot to return to his quarters he looked thoughtful.

*CHAPTER XXII*

*Juanita*

The Brave Antonio--A Survey--Towards the Coso--A Deed of Daring--The Senorita Receives--Old Friends--Mig Prig--Don Fernan--An Ambush--Jose Pinzon--The Call of Duty

Next morning, as soon as it was light, Jack started for a round of his district. The Casa Alvarez was a large square house, standing in the middle of a small plaza of its own. Exactly opposite its front, which faced towards Santa Engracia, there were two smaller houses, known as the Casas Vega and Tobar, the backs of which were separated from each other by a narrow lane leading towards the convent. Each of these houses was the last of a block of contiguous buildings, and they were, in fact, the only houses in their blocks which were still intact, the rest being more or less in ruins. The front of the Casa Tobar looked into a street running parallel with the lane and entering the Plaza Alvarez on the side nearest the ramparts. On the other side of the street ran a row of houses parallel to the Casa Tobar block. These also were mainly in ruins. The house exactly opposite the Casa Tobar was known as the Casa Vallejo, and this, while at present unharmed, was the immediate object of the French attack. Thus in the vicinity of the Casa Alvarez there were three parallel blocks of buildings along which the French were working simultaneously. Two of the blocks were terminated by the Plaza Alvarez, and the last house in each was in a line with the Casa Vallejo. The Casa Vallejo terrace was separated by a lane from the ramparts, for the defence of which Jack was not responsible.

The features of the locality were pointed out to him by a young Spanish lawyer, Don Cristobal Somiedo, who had taken a voluntary part in the struggle, and had acted as lieutenant to Jack's predecessor, Don Hernando de Solas. It was he, toe, who introduced Jack to his little corps. It consisted of about 380 men, of whom no more than 250 could be regarded as really fit for duty, and even of these, as they paraded before him, many looked as though they should be in hospital wards. The majority of them were regulars, but nearly 100 were guerrilleros driven into the city, before the actual investment began, by the advance of the French. Among the rest were once well-to-do shopkeepers, whose businesses had been ruined, and whose houses and shops had in many cases been destroyed by the French bombs or mines. They were fighting side by side with artisans from the lower quarters of the city, and peasants from the country-side, all distinctions of class and occupation being forgotten in the common peril. Regulars and irregulars all bore marks of the toils and dangers of their strenuous life--some in their tattered garments, others in ghastly wounds, others in their haggard cheeks and fever-lit eyes. But only one spirit animated them all: the determination to spend their last energies in the defence of the city.

Passing down their ranks, Jack was struck by one face that seemed familiar to him, and he stopped before the man, endeavouring to recall the circumstances in which he had seen him.

"Buenos dias, Senor," said the man, a stout thick-set fellow wearing a heavy skin cloak. He smiled somewhat sheepishly as he saluted his new commandant.

The tone of voice brought back to Jack's memory the roadside encounter with a man on the way to Medina, and the subsequent meeting in the inn.

"The brave Antonio, is it not?" he said with a smile.

"Si, Senor," replied the man.

"I am glad to see you engaged in such excellent work."

Passing on, Jack was introduced by Don Cristobal to Pablo Quintanar, the chief of the guerrilleros, and learnt that the man, though subordinate to the commander of the district, expected a certain amount of consideration as head of an independent party of peasant-warriors. Jack was not taken with the man's appearance. He had a sinister look and shifty eyes, and replied in curt ungenial tones to the few words addressed to him.

"Antonio, the man you spoke to just now," added Don Cristobal, "is second in command of the guerrilleros, and a much better man, in my opinion, than the chief. You appear to know him, Senor?"

"I met him once," was Jack's brief reply.

Having made acquaintance with his corps, and finding that the French had not yet commenced their morning movements, Jack proceeded to complete his survey of the position. Beyond the River Huerba he could now clearly see the long rows of French trenches, the parallels cut here and there by a series of zigzags constructed with incredible labour to secure the besiegers' approach to the walls. The French had actually made good their position on the near side of the river, immediately beneath the wall, towards Santa Engracia, but they had hitherto forborne to press their advantage, the height of the bank rendering it difficult for them to storm the ramparts in that quarter, and at the same time preventing them from blowing them up by mines.

It was clear that no French attack was to be expected from the Porta Quemada side of his district, for in order to reach him the enemy would have to push their way through some hundreds of yards of streets held by Don Casimir, who had proved himself a very capable leader. But on the Santa Engracia side he was exposed to what was plainly the enemy's principal attack. Their aim was obviously to reach the Coso, and to connect the wedge they were driving into the city in this quarter with the wedge already inserted at San Agustin.

They had made considerable progress since the capture of the Santa Engracia convent four days before. They treated each block of houses as a miniature fortress. There was no attempt to carry it by storm until the defences had been attacked by sap and mine. As soon as a house was blown up they rushed in and occupied the ruins, where they entrenched themselves with bales of wool, gabions, and sacks of earth, and began to drive mines under the next block.

Anxious to see for himself something of their method, Jack entered a house next to one recently blown up, and, ascending to the top story, peeped through a loop-hole pierced in the party wall. The roof of the next house had fallen in. Some charred beams were still smouldering. Here and there a tongue of flame licked the debris, and as the breeze blew in fitful gusts, dense clouds of smoke rose into the air.

"They don't do their work very thoroughly," said Jack to Don Cristobal. "The shell of the house is still standing. A good explosion would have shattered the whole place."

"They have changed their ways, Senor," replied the lieutenant. "At first they used big charges and completely destroyed the houses; but they found that when the ruins cooled, and they occupied the space, they had no shelter from our fire. Now they use smaller charges and throw down only the wall next to them, leaving the other walls and the roof uninjured. The roof next door was not brought down by the explosion, but by our own men setting fire to the shell."

"A counter-stroke, eh? Obviously two can play at their game. Well, it will be at least a couple of days, I should think, before the ruins are cool enough for the French to occupy the ground. Probably they are busy running a mine towards us."

A loud explosion at this moment shocked the air. Looking out of the window, across the barricaded streets, Jack saw a column of smoke pouring from a house to his left, at the corner of another block of buildings not in his quarter.

"One house nearer the Coso," he said. "Well, Don Cristobal, we must do what we can to check their progress in our direction. Our men are no doubt counter-mining."

"Not very successfully, I am afraid. We have no trained sappers and miners; only a scratch battalion formed from the workmen employed on the great canal of Aragon, a mile to the south, and they haven't been accustomed to work underground."

"We must give them some practice, then," said Jack as they left the house together.

Returning to the Casa Alvarez, which he had fixed on as his permanent head-quarters, Jack learnt that there had as yet been no sign of a French attack upon his district. The houses and barricades were well manned by the Spaniards. It was clear that their vigorous opposition had deterred the French from attempting an assault in force until they had made further progress with their mines. In pursuance of an idea that had occurred to him, Jack sent for the foreman of the canal labourers and took him at once into a small cabinet, where they remained closeted for more than two hours. At the end of that time the workman, carrying a sheet of paper, left the house, collected a gang of the labourers, and brought them, armed with various implements, into the Casa Alvarez, where he descended with them into the cellars.

Meanwhile Jack, leaving Don Cristobal in command, made his way to the Aljafferia Castle to see Palafox. His interview with the general was brief. He reported that he had taken over command of his district, rapidly surveyed it, and inspected his men. He mentioned what he had learnt of the recent operations of the French, and was informed by Palafox that he might regard himself as having a free hand in preparing measures of defence, though he would be expected to make a daily report to head-quarters. The business of the interview being concluded, Palafox said:

"You will be interested to hear that last night Don Miguel Priego--he is connected, I believe, with your father's house--got through the French lines by a stroke of matchless daring, bringing me despatches from the Supreme Junta. Their view of my country's prospects is brighter than Mr. Frere's; and Don Miguel tells me that, from information he gained during his wonderful journey across Spain, we may expect the siege to be raised within a week."

"I am glad to hear it, Senor Capitan," said Jack gravely. Then, abruptly changing the subject, he continued: "Can you tell me where I should be likely to find Padre Consolacion?"

"At the Franciscan convent, no doubt; you will pass it on the way back to your district. The padre is doing grand work."

Jack thanked the general and took his leave. He was anxious to find Padre Consolacion and discover from him the whereabouts of Juanita Alvarez. As he walked along the Coso towards the Franciscan convent he came to the house where he had left the young Senorita whose acquaintance he had made on his first entrance to the town, and remembering the trinkets of hers he had in his pocket, he decided to call and leave them with her, and at the same time enquire after her welfare and the health of the fragile old lady whom they had rescued. Rapping at the door, he was in a minute confronted by a pleasant-looking old duenna, who, on learning the object of his call, at once asked him in.

"The Senorita said that if you called you were to be shown up, Senor. Follow me."

There was nothing unusual in this; in Spain a message is always delivered in person, be the messenger high or low. Jack followed the old woman into a vast salon, darkened by the closing of the shutters except at a small window at the back.

"The Senora is ill; the Senorita receives," said his guide, and went out, closing the door.

In a chair sat the old lady, looking vacantly around the room, mumbling her lips and fingering the ends of her lace mantilla. She paid no attention to the visitor, but the younger lady rose and came forward a few steps, then stood in an attitude of mingled enquiry and expectancy.

"You will pardon me, Senorita; I could not help calling to enquire--I am not sure of your name--"

"I don't think we mentioned it, Senor. And that reminds me of my own neglect--my unpardonable neglect. I should certainly have asked the name of our--deliverer."

At this word Jack looked uncomfortable. His fluency in Spanish seemed for the moment to have utterly deserted him.

"Oh," he exclaimed at a rush, "my name is Lumsden--Jack Lumsden."

"Ah! an English name, is it not? Then you are not a Spaniard. And yet you speak--just like one of ourselves."

Jack's reply was half-apologetic.

"Oh, well, I had a good deal of practice as a child. I used to live in Spain."

"And now?"

"Now--I'm in the army--the English army--lieutenant in the 95th regiment."

"Lieutenant?--May I congratulate you?"

"Congratulate me!" repeated Jack in some surprise.

"Yes; is it not permitted? Among us it is quite the custom to congratulate a friend on his promotion."

"Certainly, Senorita--" began Jack, wondering still more; but before he could collect himself the girl continued, with a twinkle of amusement in her eyes:

"Surely it is only the other day that you were an ensign. Can you have forgotten that too? You were not always so forgetful. I fear--"

"True, Senorita, I was a kind of ensign, though in the 95th we've no colours to carry. But--"

"I fear," she continued, after a scarcely perceptible pause, "--yes, that you are--well, not quite so nice as you used to be."

Her eyes were dancing with merriment, and in a flash Jack recalled the time, six years ago, when a little maid with just such eyes had been his occasional playmate in Barcelona. True, there was little other resemblance; she had been an elf-like girl, with tangled hair, thin cheeks, and the shy manner of a child unused to the society of children. Before him now stood a tall girl with a dignity and self-possession beyond her years, her rounded cheeks and bright eyes showing that the trials of the siege had as yet touched her but lightly.

"Juanita!" exclaimed Jack, almost below his breath. "Well, of all the extraordinary--of all the stupid--"

Juanita laughed outright--the old rippling laugh that Jack now remembered well.

"I hope, Senor Lumsden, you are not referring to me," she said.

"You must think me an ass," he replied, half-amused, half-nettled. "But," he added, seeing a loophole, "it isn't my fault. It's you who have changed, not I. And I came to Saragossa on purpose to see you. To think it was you all the time!"

"Indeed we thank you. I don't know what we should have done without you," said Juanita more seriously. "We could never have got away. Don't think me ungrateful; I knew you at once; but it was all so terrible, and I saw you didn't know me. And then, when all was over, I ought to have explained, but I--well--"

"Didn't," said Jack with a smile. "I see you haven't changed so much after all. The same Juanita, mischievous as ever."

"I'm afraid not, Jack. I'm years older than I was a few months ago. We were happy then; now everything is different."

The tears stood in her eyes.

"Yes," said Jack, "I had heard; that is why I came to see you."

They were silent; then Juanita, with a brave effort to smile, said:

"Now, Jack, tell me all about yourself."

In a few words Jack gave an account of what had happened to him since his arrival in Spain, Juanita listening with an interest and excitement that every now and then found expression in eager questions.

"But now," said Jack in conclusion, "it's your turn. I have many things to ask. Do you know, I met an old friend not long ago, who told me something about you."

"Oh! Who was that, and what was it?"

"Well, I called him an old friend--for your sake. It was Miguel Priego."

"Him!" Her shrug was expressive. "Why do you say for my sake?"

"Well, considering what he told me--"

"What did he say? Don't be mysterious."

"He said--that you were about to be married."

"Married! Good gracious! To whom?"

"To him!"

"To Mig Prig?"

Her scornful laugh was wholly convincing, and Jack could not help joining heartily in her merriment when he heard once again his boyish nickname for their common tyrant.

"That's all right, then," he said.

"But surely you didn't believe it?" added Juanita, with a touch of indignation.

"Well, time works strange changes, you know."

"Possibly," said Juanita, appreciating the retort; "but not so strange as that. Marry _him_!"

Her gesture was imperial in its disdain.

"Another of Miguel's lies!" said Jack. "But," he added thoughtfully, "there was usually a motive behind them. What can it be this time? He gave me so many details; said it had all been arranged between your father and Don Esteban; he was to have the business; and all the rest of it."

"Ridiculous! My father would have been the very last to think of such a thing. He distrusted him--with good cause."

And then she proceeded to give Jack a narrative from which, as the tale was unfolded, he gained more than an inkling of Don Miguel's designs.

More than two years before, when Napoleon formed his alliance with Spain, Don Fernan Alvarez, a shrewd observer of events, had suspected that the ostensible object of despoiling Portugal was only a ruse by which the emperor intended to make himself master of the whole peninsula. Foreseeing a period of confusion and anarchy, the old merchant resolved to take time by the forelock and set his house in order. He went to Barcelona, the headquarters of the business, and proceeded to realize his stock as far as possible, with the intention of converting it into bullion or valuables which could be laid aside as a provision for his own declining years and his daughter's future. On going into the accounts of the firm he found that Don Esteban Priego's books showed large deficiencies, threatening to more than cover his interest, not a great one, in the business. When the matter was brought to light, Don Esteban was much distressed. He had been for some time in failing health, and had left the management of his branch almost entirely in the hands of his son Miguel, who, however, when brought to book by his father's partner, indignantly protested against the implied charge of dishonesty, and declared that if there was anything wrong he at any rate was absolutely clean-handed. There was no time to investigate the matter fully. After a stormy interview Don Fernan left the office in charge of a trusted clerk, and, taking with him the large sum of money he had realized, together with the unsatisfactory books, set out for Saragossa a few days before Barcelona was seized by the French.

Owing to the disturbed state of the country he thought it wise to travel with an escort of some score of well-armed men, half of them his own retainers, half alguazils. From some undefined motive of prudence he kept his departure secret until the last moment. But, despite this precaution, the party was ambushed at dusk, at a lonely spot on the hills within two marches of Saragossa, by a horde of brigands. The escort made a stout resistance, but being taken entirely at a disadvantage by superior numbers they were overpowered. Don Fernan himself was severely wounded in the first moment of attack; several of his men were killed or disabled; and the rest, seeing their case hopeless, made their escape.

The brigands were about to kill the wounded, on the principle that dead men tell no tales, when a body of French horsemen rode down the hill at a gallop. One startled glance, and the bandits hurriedly decamped. At that time the French were posing as disinterested friends of Spain. The cavaliers showed every attention to the wounded men, assisted Don Fernan into Saragossa, and with a self-restraint that was remarkable in the light of the subsequent behaviour of their countrymen, handed over to him his books and boxes untouched. This was a double relief to the merchant, for, if what he learnt on the way from his old body-servant Jose was true, he had not only saved the treasure for his daughter, but preserved it from the hands of the one man whom he had recently had so much reason to mistrust. Jose had been stunned during the fight by a blow from a clubbed musket. On recovering consciousness he was amazed to recognize, among the assailants, no other than Don Miguel Priego. He could not be sure. At that moment the French appeared and the brigands fled. But he felt that he could hardly have been mistaken.

"That was where Miguel got his scar," said Jack to himself at this point of the story.

A few months after Don Fernan's return to Saragossa the French began the first siege of the city. He contributed largely to the funds raised for the defence, and though scarcely able to walk played a not inconsiderable part in the actual work behind the walls. But such unwonted exertions tried his already enfeebled health. He had never thoroughly recovered from his wound. The troubles of the siege were too great a strain for a man of his age. And though his strength revived a little when the French were so signally beaten, he was again ailing when the news of the fatal day of Tudela broke his last hold on life. The Saragossans gave him honoured burial.

His last days were troubled by anxiety about his daughter and only child. He knew that if his property became subject to the lingering processes of the Spanish courts, very little of it would be left for Juanita. He had no near relatives or friends on whose integrity and business capacity he could thoroughly rely. Mr. Lumsden, his English partner, would, as a heretic, probably be unable to act as executor of a will, and in any case would be seriously handicapped in any legal proceedings. He therefore made no will, but solemnly entrusted his servant with the task of carrying out his wishes. Jose was forty years of age, wholly illiterate, but devoted to his old master, and even more to Juanita. He enjoyed Don Fernan's entire confidence, and was fully informed of his master's affairs. A sum of money had already been invested in England that would produce an income of about L400 a year; of this Mr. Lumsden was trustee. The remainder of his property consisted of a country house and estate near Morata, some miles west of Saragossa; the family plate and heirlooms; and the money realized by the sale of his disposable stock in Barcelona. The movable property was all given into Jose Pinzon's charge, to be handed over to Juanita when the country should have settled down again.

"That won't be yet, I'm afraid," remarked Jack, "but no doubt Jose has it safe enough. By the way, where is he?"

"I wish I knew," said Juanita anxiously. "Nothing has been heard of him since the great sortie of Captain Mariano Galindo about ten days ago. He volunteered among the brave two hundred, and was one of the first to spike the French guns. But he never came back."

"Poor fellow!" said Jack. "I'm very sorry. We used to be great chums. There aren't many like him. You will miss him sadly."

"Yes, indeed; and I wouldn't mind about the property if only he were safe."

"But surely his disappearance doesn't affect the property?"

"Well, you see, nobody else knows where it is. Father didn't tell me. He thought there would be less risk of harm if I knew nothing about it."

"But he would be sure to provide against Jose's death. Ah!" he exclaimed, as a sudden light dawned, "that explains it. I had a letter from him in Salamanca, telling me about another letter left with General Palafox. No doubt everything was explained in that."

"Was explained! What do you mean?"

"The letter has disappeared--was stolen, mistaken for plans of the city. But there's still a chance left. A third letter was sent to my father. We must hope it was a duplicate of the lost one."

"Oh dear!" sighed Juanita, "to think that so many people should be troubled with poor little me!"

"We seem to have rather muddled things among us," said Jack. "But I see now what Mig Prig is aiming at. Have you heard that he is back in Saragossa?"

"Miguel back!" exclaimed Juanita; in her tone there was a hint of uneasiness. "Oh, I do hope I shall not meet him! But I won't think of him."

"He's not worth it.--I was almost forgetting. I have brought some of your trinkets from the Casa Ximenez. Will you--"

"Hark!" exclaimed Juanita, holding up her hand. There was a loud crash as of falling masonry.

"They are bombarding again," said Jack, rising. "I must hasten to my post. Good-bye, Juanita!"

"You will come and see us again when you have time?"

They both looked sympathetically at the huddled figure of Dona Teresa, who had fallen asleep in her chair.

"Poor Auntie!" said Juanita. Then, as Jack turned towards the door, she folded her mantilla about her head and dropped a low curtsy, saying demurely: "Adios, Senor!"

*CHAPTER XXIII*

*The Fight in the Ruins*

Mines and Countermines--In the Cellars--Burrowing--Y Mines--An Underground Enemy--The Foe Within--Planning a Surprise--At Dawn--Across the Barricades--In the Enemy's Works--A Bird's-eye View--Through the Wall--Sword versus Bayonet--Shut Out--A Mob Leader--Too much Zeal--Not Proven

Jack walked downstairs abstractedly, and was only brought to himself by the sudden realization that he had almost collided with a person entering at the door. Looking up with a murmured apology, he saw that the visitor was a burly priest, in long cassock and broad sombrero which roofed a round jovial face. The priest was equally apologetic, and eyed Jack curiously, stopping in the doorway and turning round to gaze after his retreating figure. Outside, Jack found Pepito perched on a stone post. He sprang to the ground when he saw his master.

"Well, imp," said Jack, "sticking to me as usual, eh?"

"Si, Senor. Senor knows the fat padre?"

"No. Do you?"

"A friend of the Busno Don Miguel," replied the boy.

"Indeed! How do you know that?"

"I saw them talking at the door of the great big house over there."

He pointed to the Franciscan convent on the other side of the road. Jack looked thoughtful; he wondered whether this was the Padre Consolacion of whom he had heard, and was half-minded to turn back and make his acquaintance. That he had been seen in consultation with Miguel was somewhat disturbing. But, on second thoughts, he decided that he had already been long enough away from his command at Santa Engracia, and he hastened his steps in that direction, anxious to see how things had been progressing there in his absence.

When he left the Casa Alvarez, two hours before, he had given instructions for the commencement of operations by which he hoped to beat the French at their own game. From what he had learnt from Don Cristobal he saw that the mistake up to the present had been the waiting for the explosion of the French mines, the result being that the enemy gained positions from which it usually proved impossible to dislodge them. The only means of keeping them effectually in check was to practise countermining, not in the hand-to-mouth manner in which it had hitherto been attempted, but systematically, with a longer outlook, with a regard to ultimate developments rather than to the immediate repelling of attack. During his interview with the foreman that morning he had explained his ideas, and learnt that, so far as the man's limited experience went, there was no practical obstacle to their accomplishment.

The French, as he had seen, had been for some days past working steadily through the three parallel blocks of buildings that ran from the Santa Engracia direction towards the Plaza Alvarez. They had made equal progress in all three blocks. The limit of destruction was marked by the Casas Vega, Tobar, and Vallejo, the first two being at the end of their blocks immediately facing the Casa Alvarez, separated from each other by a narrow lane, while the last was separated from the Casa Tobar by the street running into the plaza. These three houses were still standing, but it was obvious that they would form the next points of attack, and it was highly probable that even now the enemy had begun to cut galleries towards them.

Jack had made up his mind to anticipate the attack. Before leaving in the morning he had learnt from the foreman, whose name was Pulgar, that the work of mining underground could usually be heard from a distance of about forty feet. From this he calculated that, if the French began to work from their side immediately after their last attack, there would be time for his own men to drive a short gallery beneath the wall of each of the three houses before there was any risk of their operations being heard by the enemy. He had therefore left instructions for a hole to be cut beneath the farther party-wall of each house, where it adjoined the house last demolished. He told Pulgar to see that the digging was done as quietly as possible, and to be on the alert to catch the slightest sound of the approach of the French miners in the opposite direction.