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.