To his amazement the man clutched him by the hand and then grinned widely. Looking closely into his face, beneath its thatch of ruffled hair, Tom recognized one of the troopers who had helped to defend the church, and promptly shook his hand eagerly.
"TO HIS AMAZEMENT THE MAN CLUTCHED HIM BY THE HAND"
"Ma foi! and so soon," gasped the fellow. "See, monsieur, a little while ago, two months perhaps, you and I and the others do our best to cut the throats of a common enemy. Now we would cut one another's. Truly war is a farce, and here am I your prisoner, whereas you were mine but a while ago."
The absurdity of the change tickled the man, and, though shaken by his fall, he laughed uproariously. Then, aided by Tom again, he clambered into the saddle borne by another horse resting beside its slain master, and rode away, thanking Tom profusely. Nor was that the last seen of him, for almost before Alfonso had put the three companies in motion again half a dozen Frenchmen were seen to be spurring towards them. One detached himself then from the number, and presently was seen to be the officer. Fearless, as were these French cavalrymen, he rode right up to the squares, lifting his hat as he came.
"Monsieur," he began, addressing Alfonso, while the Spaniards in the ranks gazed at him open-mouthed, "have I the honour of addressing Monsieur Tom Clifford?"
Alfonso at once pointed to our hero, for he understood the language. Then once more, when the officer had arrived at the last of the squares, he repeated his question.
"At your service, Capitaine," replied Tom.