"Lumsden, I’ll leave you with a squad of men to repair this confounded cart. It’s got our whole wardrobe in it, and we can’t afford to lose that. Choose your men, and don’t be longer about it than you can help. You’ll probably have the job done before the second battalion come up, but if not, there’ll be the hussars behind to see you safe in." *CHAPTER XII* *Corporal Wilkes on Guard* Amateur Wheel-wrights—Wilkes Disappears—Dodging Dragoons—Night with a Picket—A Roman Bridge—Benevente—Wilkes enters a Protest—One MacWhirter Jack was glad to have the chance of doing something that was not merely trudging through slush. He selected four men to assist him with the wagon—Wilkes, Bates, Tom Plunket, and his own man, Giles Ogbourne, who had some experience of smith’s work. An inspection of the vehicle showed that the tyre of one of the wheels had broken, and with it one of the spokes. It was evident that, unless the tyre were repaired, the felloe would soon fall to pieces if the wagon were hauled farther over the heavy road. The first thing to be done was to take off the wheel. Luckily the Portuguese driver had a spanner in the cart, and with this the axle-cap was screwed off and the pin knocked out. "Now, Wilkes," said Jack, "you and Bates will look after the cart while the others come with me to find a smithy. The second battalion will be up in a minute or two. If anyone asks, you can explain what has happened." Jack started off with the other two men, who carried the heavy wheel between them. Reaching the village of Castro Gonzalo, they went along the streets in search of a smithy. Every house was deserted; the inhabitants had fled in terror at the news that the French were advancing. Nowhere was a smith’s shop to be seen, nowhere a person of whom to make enquiry. "There must be a smithy somewhere," said Jack, "even if the smith has taken to his heels." "Maybe ’tis along the road to the left, sir," said Giles. "The smithy sometimes lies a bit out of the village at home." "Perhaps. Let us try it." The three proceeded down the road towards Villapando, in the teeth of a blinding storm of sleet. At a distance of nearly half a mile from the village they came to a small stone house at the left of the road. "Here we are!" said Jack, noticing a horse-shoe nailed on the wall, and some broken bits of iron by the doorway. "The door’s open; the smith seems to have bolted." He led the way in, and found himself in a dark smithy. The forge was black and cold; evidently no fire had been lighted there for some time. "Now, Giles, kindle a fire. You’ll find some wood and charcoal about, no doubt. We must be quick about this, for we don’t want to be left in the lurch."