"I am glad that, as a chance traveller, I am here in time to add my good wishes to so staunch a patriot. With a spirit like yours, we shall soon succeed in driving the enemy headlong through the passes of the Pyrenees. I myself hope to do something in my small way for Spain, but nothing I can do will match the valiant deeds of the brave guerrilleros, who face the rigours of winter cold on the barren mountains, and leave all the comforts of home in their noble enthusiasm. I call upon the sons of Spain here present to drink once more a health to Antonio the guerrillero, and confusion to the French! Viva Antonio! Viva la España!" He grasped the hand of the astonished Antonio, and shook it heartily, amid the applause of the company. Antonio’s look of amazement gave way gradually to one of smug content, and when, after another flowery speech from the hidalgo, the guests rose to take leave, the cooper had quite recovered his wonted air of assurance. After the departure of his guests, the landlord was proceeding to bolt the door for the night, when Jack stopped him. "Don’t fasten up yet, landlord," he said. "I am going farther presently." "To-night, Señor?" "Yes; the moon is rising, and I shall ride as far as Olmedo." "But, Señor, you may be set upon by French horsemen, like Antonio here." "I don’t think so," replied Jack with a smile. "Remember, Don Pedro sent me here to claim your assistance. He assured me you are a good patriot, and I don’t suppose you love the French any better than the Señor hidalgo, or than Antonio, eh?" "The French, Señor! I hate them. Every good Spaniard hates them. We are all caballeros, Señor, and we’re not going to have any masters over us but our own hidalgos and the king—our own king." "Have you seen anything of the French yourself?" "The saints forbid! They spare neither man nor beast. If they came this way I’d have never a pig in my stye nor a copa of wine in my cellar. Antonio has seen some of them to-night, and my son Manuel told me that a squadron of dragoons passed through Olmedo and went south yesterday, and all last week parties of French horse were scouring the district north of Olmedo, playing the very devil with the people." "They came from Valladolid, I suppose?" "No doubt, Señor; Valladolid has been occupied by them for at least a fortnight past. We’re hoping every day that the Marquis of La Romana or General Palafox will swoop down on them and slit their weasands. Or maybe the English general Sir Moore, now at Salamanca, will come and trounce them." "You know the English are at Salamanca, then? Do the French know it?" "Not from us, Señor. Not a man of us will give them any information." "Well, landlord, I’m an Englishman—"