Towards night the spasmodic attacks of the French ceased altogether, and they withdrew out of range. After several more hours of cheerless waiting, word was passed quietly along the entrenchments that the work at the bridge was finished and that the troops were now to retire. The wet and weary men needed no urging; in dead silence they crept along and down the heights towards the end of the bridge, where General Craufurd, commanding the rear-guard, was in person superintending the crossing. The middle arch had been cut completely through, but the men had not to swim for it, as the sergeant of the 43rd had anticipated, for planks had been laid across the gap. Jack was among the last to cross, and as he passed over the narrow, shaking strip of boarding, the impetuous and roaring torrent dashed over it, threatening at every moment to carry away planks and men together. But the last man safely reached the other side, and Jack, as General Craufurd passed him, heard that fine soldier mutter with a grim chuckle: "There! We’ve dished the fools!" A few minutes afterwards there was a terrific roar, that for the moment drowned the fury of the torrent; then a blinding glare that flashed along the gray masonry and shot through the falling rain; and then, with a great crash, two arches and their supporting buttresses fell to the bottom of the river, where they lie to this day. The mine so laboriously excavated had exploded with complete success, and between the French and the English raged the boiling torrent, which effectually forbade present pursuit. Mocking cheers broke from the throats of the tired, drenched soldiers; then they turned their backs on the river and marched on, half-asleep, towards Benavente. Jack looked at his watch; it was just midnight. When he awoke, at daylight next morning, some minutes passed before he realized where he was. He had no recollection of going to bed; in fact, on arriving in the town he had been so fatigued that he could have slept in his wet clothes on the road. But his man had been anxiously on the look-out, and it was to him that Jack owed his bed in the convent where his fellow-officers had found lodgment. His dazed senses were fully recalled to him by the sound of Pepito’s voice humming one of his gipsy songs outside the door. "Pepito!" he called. The boy bounded lightly into the room with an eagerness that bespoke, as clearly as words could have done, the affection he now bore towards the young Englishman. "Find Giles for me, my boy," said Jack, "and tell him to get me something to eat—something substantial—for I’m ravenous." When the boy returned, Jack had dressed. "Find him? That’s right. So you got here safely yesterday! You’ve not been up to any mischief, I hope?" "No, Señor," replied Pepito gravely. "But I can, now that you are here." Jack smiled, and then sprang up as Giles entered with a dish that filled the room with a very savoury odour.