It was perhaps some ten minutes later that the defences of the church were ready. Tom busied himself posting men at all vulnerable spots, and then clambered into the tower with Andrews. It was quite a modest erection, some fifty feet in height, but sufficient to give a view over the village. Lights could be seen in many directions, while shouts echoed through the air. There was the tramp of feet also, and a dull mass over at the entrance to the village. "They're gloating over the poor chaps they shot and knocked out of their saddles, sir," said Andrews. "It was sharp business; I was never in a brisker, and I've done two years of the campaign already. Came out in 1808, sir, and went home wounded. Beg pardon, sir, but what might your corps be?" "Corps? Corps?" exclaimed Tom, mystified for the moment. "Oh, I follow! I'm not in the army, Andrews. I was on my way out to Oporto, or, more correctly, I was going to sail for that place when I was impressed and sent aboard a British frigate. We had that action with the French man-of-war, and you were released. News had come out to the frigate, meanwhile, that I ought never to have been impressed, and so the captain sent me on in the sloop to Oporto. By rights I ought to be seated at a desk adding up long, dry columns." Andrews gave vent to a gruff expression. "Strike me!" he cried, as if dumbfounded by the information; "and I and Howeley and all them French boys took you for an orficer. Anyways, sir, beggin' your pardon, you've done handsomely. It was a lucky thing for us that you took the command, for Mr. Barwood ain't fit for it. He got knocked out by the first bullet almost, and it was as much as he could do to stick to his saddle till we reached here. Mr. Riley ain't no better. If Howeley hadn't held him he'd have been left outside to be murdered. This here's a tough little business." It proved, in fact, a fortunate thing for all concerned that Tom had taken the command. There are some who might express the opinion that he should not have done so, that it displayed an uppish spirit. Granted all that; but uppishness is just what is required in moments of stress and danger. The lad who is modest at all times, and yet who can come to the fore when circumstances urgently call for a leader, is a lad of the right sort, a benefactor to his comrades. In this case Tom had undoubtedly done the right thing, and, moreover, had done it well. "It was real smart," said Andrews respectfully. "Beggin' pardon again, sir; there's many who would have been cornered. To go forward was impossible, to retreat out of the question, seeing as there were three hundred or more of the ruffians behind us. This was the only course. It's queer to think that we, who are fighting for the Portuguese against the French, should be boxed up here in danger of having our throats slit by those who ought to be friends."