"What a cowardly crew!" added Smith. "They run at the sound of their own guns. Bang! whizz! and Vamos, they cry, which Lumsden will tell you means: ’Let us skedaddle’." "We mustn’t be too hard on them," said Mr. Vaughan quietly. "They used to fight well, by all accounts. There were good men in Alva’s time—not to go back any further. All they want is proper leading. Their generals happen to be no match for the French marshals, and unlucky to boot. A little British discipline would work wonders. Well, as I happened to be with the Spanish army, I rode off to Madrid at once with the news, and our minister there sent me off with despatches to Sir John." "Lucky you were on the spot, sir," said Smith, "or we might have waited till doomsday. The villainous way we are served with intelligence is the common talk of the army." "I judged as much. The fact is, the Spaniards think they can do the whole thing unaided; you gentlemen are mere interlopers. They’d like to have the French all to themselves." "Well, they’ve had a lesson at Tudela," said Pomeroy. "Who had the presumption to beat them there? Was it Marshal Ney?" "No, a Marshal Lannes. It’s rather curious how he managed to take the command, seeing that as he rode across the mountains a fortnight ago his horse fell with him over a precipice, and every bone in his body appeared to be broken. But a clever surgeon named Larrey mended him in some ten days—how do you think? He stitched him up in the skin of a newly-flayed sheep!" "A wolf," said Shirley, "a wolf in sheep’s clothing; and the British dogs of war’ll soon be at him." "How does this defeat affect us, sir?" asked Jack. "That depends on how the French follow it up. Bonaparte may—" "Oh, I say, sir," cried Dugdale excitedly, "is old Boney himself in Spain?" "Didn’t you know? He crossed the border three weeks ago. He may swoop down on Madrid, for, except Heredia and San Juan, there seems to be nobody to bar his way." "Bedad, sir, but there’s a certain General Sir John Moore, to say nothing of the 95th," said Captain O’Hare with a laugh; "though, to be sure, ’twas Soult we were to tackle first." "Won’t this defeat bring the French on our flank?" asked Smith, already showing the strategical perception that distinguished the victor of Aliwal. "It certainly seems likely. I found Sir John terribly distressed at his imperfect knowledge of the French position, and at the sluggishness of the Spaniards. The proud Dons seem to have no plans, and to be perfectly content to drift along. But that won’t do against soldiers like Bonaparte and his marshals." "Do you know how many the French number, all told?" asked Jack. "I don’t, and I’m sure no Spaniard does. I heard 80,000 given as one estimate, but I shall be much surprised if the total is not much larger than that."