"Yes; all the wood I’m going into. We’re looking for houses, not men; and shan’t find ’em there. Wait while I roll a cigarette, and, when I’ve smoked it, we’ll go back and report," and we heard him strike a match and light it. "Here, José, here’s a path into the cursed darkness," called his comrade, and we heard the twigs snapping underneath his feet as he blundered about in the undergrowth. "Let it stop," growled the other man. "It might be the pit of hell, without the fire to guide us." "Holy Saints. I’ve got an idea. Suppose we set light to the cursed place, and then swear we saw someone in it, and fire our guns and bring up the others. It would be a mighty blaze, and we might get a step for our vigilance," and the scoundrel laughed and swore in unholy glee. "Hold your tongue, idiot," said his companion, roughly. "If you want to see what’s in the wood come with me along the path here;" and to our consternation we heard him coming towards us. "Knives, Garcia," whispered Cabrera, and I felt them both loosen the knives they carried concealed in their girdles. The faint shadow of one of the men showed between us and the moon gleams, and the sound of crackling twigs came ominously nearer. "The blight of hell on the place," cried the same voice suddenly, with a sound of heavy plunging among the shrubs, and the thud of a falling body. "What in the devil’s name was that?" His comrade laughed. "Going to swim through, José? What are you doing on your belly like that?" "I tripped over some infernal animal, or stump, or something, and struck my head against a tree, you fool." "Serves you right for not looking where you are going. Put your eyes in your boots, you can’t see else. Here, wait while I strike a light, blockhead;" and he lit a match and bent down over his fallen companion. "Shall we rush on them now?" asked Garcia, trembling with excitement. "No, no, wait," I said, laying a detaining hand on him. "Why you’re bleeding, José, man. Fine figure you’ll cut on parade, with a black eye and a bloody nose. José Balso, promoted sergeant for gallantry in a wood; scouting for nothing and finding it; fought an old olive tree and fell covered with wounds. Here, come out of this, man; I’m going back. I’ve had enough of this foolery;" and without more ado he went, and we heard his footsteps die away in the distance. His comrade, growling and swearing and abusing him, stumbled to his feet and went after him, staggering about in the darkness as he tried to follow the sound of the other man’s calls. By the lucky chance of his fall we escaped, and I knew peace of mind once more. The men did not stay by the wood, and after a minute or so we heard no more of them; and Andreas came back to tell us they had rejoined the rest of the men, and all had mounted and ridden away on the road back to Daroca. I told him of the narrow escape we had had from discovery and then he surprised us.