It was impossible to see the effect of the shot through the cloud of smoke that hung between the buildings; but, whatever it was, Jack knew that it would awake the enemy to feverish activity. Running his piece in, he had it rapidly sponged and then reloaded with grape. While this was being done, he sent orders to the garrison to open fire on the French position, to which there would certainly be a rush. As soon as the smoke cleared he saw that the French gun had also been run in. Before it could be loaded, however, Jack applied his second match; his canister of grape searched every square foot of the area around the French gun, and the men serving it were annihilated. Before another complement of gunners could be brought up, Jack had his piece cleaned and charged again, this time with round-shot. He saw now that the first shot had broken and splintered the beam; the third shivered it to fragments. A great cheer arose from the garrison when they saw the damage already done. A second charge of grape, together with sharp musketry-fire from every point occupied by the Spaniards, scattered the French reinforcements who were now attempting frantically to withdraw the gun out of range. Again Jack loaded with shot, and a fierce shout of exultation broke from the Spaniards on the roof-tops as they saw the enemy’s gun completely dismounted, and the remnant of the French fly in all haste to the rear. This spirited defence had the effect of keeping the French quiet in that quarter for the rest of the day. Jack maintained his vigilance unrelaxed, but there was no movement from the enemy’s direction either above or below ground. "Another day saved!" said Jack to Don Casimir, who, having heard of what had happened, had come to congratulate him on his successful manipulation of the gun. "Yes, one more day. But how long can we still hold out?" replied Don Casimir. "Surely, Señor Lumsden, you are not among the credulous people who think that we shall save the city?" "Since you ask me plainly, Don Casimir, I am not. But what does that matter? We have to hold our quarters, and I confess that I sha’n’t be satisfied unless I can say, when the end comes, that here at all events we are still unbeaten.—Do look at that odd little gipsy boy of mine. He is a strange child. When the fighting is going on he is never to be found; he hasn’t any courage of that sort; but he always turns up when it is over, and looks as proud as though he had fought with the best. What has the brat got now?" Pepito approached jauntily, twirling a small silver buckle round on his finger. "Well, what is the mischief now?" asked Jack with a smile. "That is for Señor to say," replied Pepito gravely. "You found that buckle, I suppose. Well, it looks a very good silver buckle; what is there to explain?" "I found it in the tall house. It was under the dead man. I saw it when they took him away." "Yes. What then?"