"At last!" cried one, speaking the mind of all, and as though the sound were a relief to them. "That's the beginning of it. So, _camarados_! we may get ready. The next thing will be the cracking of carbines!" They all ran to the stack of muskets, each clutching at his own. They stood listening as before; but not to hear any cracking of carbines. Instead, the bugle again brayed out its trumpet notes, recognisable as signals of command; which, though only infantry men, they understood. There was the "Quick march!" and "Double quick!" but they had no time to reflect on what it was for, nor need, as just then a troop of Hussars was seen defiling out from a side street, and coming on towards them at a charging gallop. In a few seconds they were up to the gate, which, being still open, they could have passed through, without stop or parley. For all, they made both, the commanding officer suddenly reining up, and shouting back along the line-- "_Alto_!" The "halt" was proclaimed by the trumpeter at his side, which brought the galloping cohort to a stand. "_Sargento_!" thundered he at their head to the guard-sergeant, who, with his men re-formed, was again at "Present arms!" "Has a carriage passed you, guard--a landau--grey horses, five men in it?" "Only four men, Senor Colonel; but all the rest as you describe it." "Only four! What can that mean? Was there a coachman in light blue livery--silver facings?" "The same, Senor Colonel." "That's it, sure; must be. How long since it passed?" "Not quite twenty minutes, Senor Colonel. It's just gone round the corner; yonder where you see the dust stirring." "_Adelante_!" cried the colonel, without waiting to question further, and as the trumpet gave out the "Forward--gallop!" the Hussar troop went sweeping through the gate, leaving the guard-sergeant and his men in a state of great mystification and no little chagrin; he, their chief spokesman, saying with a sorrowful air-- "Well _hombres_, it don't look like a _grito_, after all!" CHAPTER THIRTY FOUR. AN ILL-USED COACHMAN. "Such forethought?" exclaimed Rivas, as the landau went rattling along the road with the speed of a war-chariot, "wonderful!" he went on. "Ah, for cleverness, commend me to a woman--when her will's in it. We men are but simpletons to them. My glorious Ysabel! She's the sort for a soldier's wife. But don't let me be claiming all the credit for her. Fair play to the Senorita Valverde; who has, I doubt not, done her share of the contriving--on your account, Senor."