Quentin hesitated. "Nay, out with it, man--trust me, on my honour--I may well pledge it to one who has saved me from a barbarous death within this hour, and earned my warmest gratitude." "Well, then, I go to Don Baltasar de Saldos." "Diable! the man's a guerilla chief, and we have just had a severe brush with his people. My patrol, consisting of a sergeant, a corporal, and twelve chasseurs, were riding leisurely along the road from San Vincente towards the summit of yonder mountain, when, from a grove of cork and cypress trees, there flashed out some twenty muskets. It was an ambush; the leading section of them fell dead; the rest broke through, sabre à la main, and fled, pursued by the guerillas, who sprang after them with the yells of fiends and the activity of squirrels, leaping from bank to rock, and from rock to tree, firing and reloading so long as we were in range. Struck by a ball in the counter, my horse reared wildly up, and threw me; for some minutes I was insensible, and on recovering, found myself in the paws of yonder Spanish bear, who was thrice my bulk and strength. You know the rest. I thought it was all up with me. As Francis said at Pavia, 'tout est perdu, sauf l'honneur!' Baltasar's head-quarters are in a mountain puebla near Herreruela, where he successfully defies my father's cavalry. Am I right in supposing that you have been sent to invite his co-operation in some projected movement?" "My orders were simply to deliver to him a despatch and rejoin my regiment." "It is a dangerous and desperate errand, my friend," said the young Frenchman, while regarding Quentin with some interest; "I mean desperate to be undertaken by one alone. It looks almost like a sacrifice of you!" "A sacrifice?" repeated Quentin, as his thoughts naturally wandered to Cosmo. "Parbleu, yes--to the exigencies of the service." "Some of my friends were not slow in saying as much," replied Quentin; "but then I--I am only a volunteer, and as such, must take any hazardous duty, I have been told." "Well, here we must lurk till nightfall--you to avoid our patrols, which are usually withdrawn for a few hours after the evening gun fires, when the inlying picquet gets under arms; I to avoid those pestilent guerillas. The shade here is cool, and if we had a bottle of wine, a sliced melon, and a little ice, our pleasure would be complete." "And you think I must conceal myself here?" "Undoubtedly, mon ami; our people are scouring all the highways, and would be sure to cut you off. Then there is that devilish Spaniard--ah, the brigand!--he will not be in haste to forget the knock you gave him on the head, and should he or his comrades fall in with you, I would not give you a sou for your safety!" "Strange, is it not, that the first man I have struck on Spanish ground should be a Spaniard?"