"If it's money you want, lad, as is only natural, why you shall have plenty," burst in John. "It's men," answered our hero. "I want to raise a small force of Spaniards, and I want also a leader to act under my orders, on whom I can at once rely." It was wonderful with what enthusiasm the two older gentlemen received this information. Don Juan pulled off his glasses and then pushed them back again on to his nose. He got up from his seat and paced backwards and forwards, and later suddenly faced the two officers. "You want a command composed of Spaniards; I can lay my hand on such a force," he said. "Alfonso, my son, is now in Spain, within easy distance of Madrid, and, were I to command him, could raise a force there. But the men of the towns are not to be relied on. For guerrillas you could have none better than the mountaineers living on the frontier between Spain and Portugal." "Just so," agreed Tom promptly. "Hardier and braver, sir." "Precisely," came the answer; "and with this, added to their natural feelings of patriotism, they will be led by the son of the man on whose estate they work, and will have in supreme command that son's cousin, a British officer on the staff of no less a person than General Lord Wellington himself." The little man skipped about the room in his enthusiasm, and forgot for the moment the decorum usually expected of a sedate business man. He snapped his fingers in his glee, and winked and blinked at Tom and at the company generally through his glasses. "Alfonso shall call them up and command them," he cried; "Tom Clifford, of the firm of Septimus John Clifford & Son, shall be in supreme command. How's that for an arrangement? No trouble about pay either, Tom. I'll see to that; I've abundance with which to pay every one of the following." The suggestion almost took Septimus Clifford's breath away. The stout little head of the old and extremely respectable business firm looked across at the jubilant little man, who for many a year had conducted the affairs of the firm in Portugal and Spain, as if he considered him mad. He gasped for breath, polished his bald head with a huge silk handkerchief of brilliant red colour, and blew heavily, puffing out his cheeks. "What!" he exclaimed, pointing a fat finger at Don Juan. "You will place a force at Tom's disposal. You will call up the men on your estate, and will put your only son in command." "Why not, sir?" Don Juan flashed out the question, and then smiled at his partner. "Why not? A pretty person you are, to be sure! You ask in one breath whether I will do this thing, knowing that my country is overrun by France, yet in the previous breath you sing praises because your only son, the son who should represent the firm, is on Lord Wellington's staff. Moreover, you gloated horribly over the details of the fighting in which he took a prominent part, and which were given you by that naval officer."