“Why?” asked the girl, impetuously. “There is no such secrecy about our forces; we do not care who knows the number in our garrison.” “No? Then how many are there, Donna?” “Three hundred and forty,” answered the girl. “Men, or young ladies like yourself, Donna? Be careful how you answer, for if the latter, I warn you that nothing will keep the British out of Fort San Carlos. We shall be with you, even if we have to go as prisoners. In saying this, I feel that I am speaking for our entire company.” The girl tossed her head scornfully. “There are three hundred and forty men,” she said, “as you shall find to your cost, if you dare attack the fort.” “In that case,” replied Nelson, “you are nearly two to one, and I venture to think that we have not come up the river for nothing.” “What braggarts you English are!” “Is it bragging to welcome a stirring fight? Are you well provided with cannon?” “You will learn that for yourself when you come within sight of the fort. Have you any more questions to ask, Señor Sailor?” “Yes; one. The number in the fort, which you give, corresponds with what I have already heard. I have heard also that you were well supplied with cannon, but I have been told that you have no cannonballs in Fort San Carlos.” “That is not true; we have plenty. “Incredible as it may seem, I was told that the cannon-balls were made of clay. When I said you had none, I meant that you had none of iron.” “That also is quite true,” answered the girl. “Do you mean to say that you are going to shoot baked clay at us? It will be like heaving bricks,” and the young man threw back his head and laughed. “Oh, you may laugh,” cried the girl, “but I doubt if you will be so merry when you come to attack the fort. The clay cannon-balls were made under the superintendence of my father, and they are filled with links of chain, spikes, and other scraps of iron.” “By Jove!” cried young Nelson, “that’s an original idea. I wonder how it will work?” “You will have every opportunity of finding out, if you are foolish enough to attack the fort.” “You advise us then to retreat?” “I most certainly do.” “And why, Donna, if you hate our country, are you so anxious that we shall not be cut to pieces by your scrap-iron?” The girl shrugged her pretty shoulders. “It doesn’t matter in the least to me what you do,” she said, rising to her feet. “Am I your prisoner, Señor Nelson?” “No,” cried the young man, also springing up; “I am yours, and have been ever since you looked at me.” Again the girl shrugged her shoulders. She seemed to be in no humour for light compliments, and betrayed an eagerness to be gone. “I have your permission, then, to depart? Do you intend to keep your word?” “If you will keep yours, Donna.” “I gave you no promise, except that I would not run away, and I have not done so. I now ask your permission to depart.” “You said that I might accompany you to the fort.”