An almost imperceptible smile of contempt curled the lip of Zumalacarregui as he observed the unmilitary negligence apparent in the advanced post of the Christinos. It was exchanged for a proud and well-pleased glance when he turned round and saw his gallant Navarrese awaiting in eager suspense a signal to advance upon the enemy, whom they knew to be close at hand. Zumalacarregui walked towards the nearest battalion, and on his approach the men darted from their various sitting and reclining postures, and stood ready to seize their muskets, and fall into their places. Their chief nodded his approbation of their alacrity, but intimated to them, by a motion of his hand, that the time for action was not yet come. "_Paciencia, muchachos!_" said he. "Patience, you will not have long to wait. Refresh yourselves, men, whilst the time is given you. Captain Landa!" cried he, raising his voice. The officer commanding the light company of the battalion stepped forward, and, halting at a short distance from his general, stood motionless, with his hand to his cap, awaiting orders. "Come with me, Landa," said Zumalacarregui; and, taking the officer's arm, he led him to the spot whence he had been observing the valley, and pointed to the Christino picket. "Take your company," said he, "and fetch me those sleepy fellows here; without firing a shot if it be possible." The officer returned to his men, and, forming them up with all speed, marched them off at a rapid pace. When they had disappeared amongst the rocks, Zumalacarregui turned to the chief of his staff. "Colonel Gomez," said he, "take the third and fourth battalions, and move them half a mile to our left, keeping them well out of sight. We are not strong enough to attack in the plain, but we shall perhaps get our friends to meet us in the mountain." Gomez--a tall, portly man, of inexpressive countenance, and whose accent, when he spoke, betrayed the Andalusian--proceeded to execute the orders he had received, and Zumalacarregui once more resumed his post of observation.