There was a grin of amusement on Tom's face as he returned to the carts, while the seemingly sleepy eyes of his fellow muleteers twinkled. Whether our hero and his cousin had embarked upon a fool's chase or not it was impossible to say; but this was certain, occupying a false position as they did, where the piercing of their disguise by comrade or enemy would be equally disastrous to their scheme, they still had everything in their favour. Those men were oysters; not one knew anything. They had taken service with the chief muleteer, he with the bright handkerchief about his head, and that was all. His name? No--that they had not heard. His age? They shrugged their shoulders. What did age matter in a country where time was of no consequence? Then he loved the English? Another shrug. Perhaps; who could say? He had had a fierce altercation with one of their officers that very day. "A lucky meeting it was, too," declared Tom to his cousin, when they were tucked in their cart that night, secure from eavesdroppers. "Every muleteer with our troops will hear the yarn before to-morrow's finished, and that's just what we want." "Want?" ejaculated Alfonso, with a lift of the eyebrows. "Yes, want." "But--why?" "Because we've thrashed this matter out, haven't we?" Alfonso assented, shrugging in his blankets because the habit was too strong for him. "But," he said. "I'll explain. There are spies about, stealing Wellington's papers and plans." "Exactly." "And strangers with the troops are few and far between, and get spotted precious quickly." "Granted--then?" "Then the spies are not strangers. They are to be found amongst men accustomed to be with the troops, non-combatants of course; for soldiers don't go in for such dirty business. So one looked round." "And pitched on the only possible people--muleteers, the scum of the earth," declared Alfonso, with another shrug, which Tom found strangely disconcerting. Who ever heard of a fellow who must needs shrug his shoulders in bed and in the darkness? "Drop that shrugging," he growled. "Upsets me. Well, there we are. We pitched on muleteers. To watch 'em properly we decided to join them ourselves." "And here we are--not that I grumble," said Alfonso, beginning another shrug and arresting it as Tom kicked savagely. "But rations might be more plentiful. Still, as you say, here we are; and here we stay, I suppose." "Till things turn up. I'm going to let it get about that we're discontented beggars. If there's a gang about, we may be invited to join. Who knows, through such a gang we might get hold of that fellow who captured your father and mine?" "José, eh?" asked his cousin. "Perhaps."