Tom stayed with them for a quarter of an hour, and now that he felt that he had done all that was possible in arranging the defence, he employed his wits and energies in seeing to his comrades. In the case of Mr. Riley, he, with the help of Andrews and Howeley, bound his chest very firmly with a couple of girths taken from the horses, first of all, however, placing a pad over the wound, which was little more than a contusion. For Jack equally simple surgery sufficed, for a bullet had penetrated his thigh, and, the bleeding having stopped, all that was wanted was a dressing and a bandage, and fortunately the troopers carried these with them. They had hardly made him comfortable when the lookout man posted in the tower reported that a mass of men were coming. "Remember--not a shot, my friends," Tom called out to the troops, "and take care not to show a light. I will see to these people and try to win them over." He scrambled up an ancient flight of stone steps and passed on to a ledge over the doorway, which, no doubt, served the purpose of a pulpit in fine weather. There was a dull roar of voices coming towards him, while the space between himself and the village seemed to be filled with figures. Ten minutes later a mob had drawn up in front of the church. Tom stood to his full height and hailed them. "My friends," he shouted in Portuguese. "We are English!" A fearful yell answered him. Shrieks of anger floated up to his ears, while a hurricane of shots swept in his direction. Amidst the dancing torches that many of the people carried there flashed out splashes of flame. The vibrating roar of voices which followed had in it an awe-inspiring note. Tom might have been on the verge of a rocky coast on which huge breakers were thundering in their fury. That note spoke of hatred, of an approaching triumph, of a horrible gloating on the part of the peasants. It told better than individual words could do what were the intentions of the enemy, what would be the fate of the besieged if they fell into their hands. Then, of a sudden, catching a better view perhaps of the solitary figure above them, the mob became silent. "My friends," called Tom, his tones clear, not a whimper in his voice, "you have made an error. There are five Englishmen amongst this party, five friends of the Portuguese. Let someone come forward to identify us." There might have been a mob of wild beasts outside by the answer. The crowd, thinking no doubt that one of the Frenchmen was attempting to fool them, and rob them of a prey they now counted upon as their own, shrieked aloud and came surging forward. More shots rang out, stones were thrown; and then, with a loud crash, the leaders came against the door of the church. Tom clambered down to his men, stern and pale and determined. "Post three of them up on the ledge," he told Andrews, who was a valuable help to him. "Let others fire through the windows when I shout. Don't fire till then."