They gave them with a heartiness there was no denying. French and English joined in the shouts till the rocky walls echoed back the cheers a hundred times. And then all became of a sudden quiet and sober. For those thirty lancers were followed by a hundred perhaps, bringing the fleeing peasants to a sudden halt and causing some of them to attempt the feat of clambering away on either hand. A minute later the ranks of the lancers opened, and through the open files came a number of horsemen. Tom found himself watching their approach with something akin to fear, for mounted on a magnificent horse which led the procession was a tall officer of high rank without doubt, who rode through the muttering and beaten peasants as if they did not exist. A stern, clean-shaven face was turned in Tom's direction, while the pair of deep-set eyes that flanked a wonderfully hooked nose peered out from beneath a cocked hat at the little band which our hero had led so successfully.
It was Wellington without a doubt, the general who had led our troops so brilliantly in the Peninsula, who had seen fighting in many a place, and had won in far-off India a reputation there was no denying. It was the great Lord Wellington, and with him his chief of the staff, aides-de-camp, and other officers, a glittering throng, gold-braided and medalled, all silently observing Tom and his little party. As for the latter, our hero was almost too astounded even to think, while his followers, conscious of the rank of those who looked at them, and indeed, of the presence of Wellington himself, fell in just behind our hero, shouldered their weapons, and drew themselves up as became good soldiers. Yes, British and French, at war with one another in the Peninsula, but friends in this particular part of it, drew themselves up proudly, as men who had no cause to feel ashamed. Slowly a smile swept across the face of the general.
"I see," he said, so that all could hear. "We have here a little adventure worth hearing. Who is in command of this party?"
Mr. Riley pushed his way to the front, having clambered from the cart with difficulty. Saluting the general, he pointed to Tom.
"That gentleman, sir, is in command," he said steadily.
"And these?" asked the general instantly, indicating the French troopers, with a smile.
"We were their prisoners till a few moments ago. We were taken at sea, landed in this neighbourhood, and taken off by a troop of cavalry. The peasants attacked us suddenly, the officers were shot down, and Mr. Clifford at once took command. I wish to report that he has behaved splendidly. He and the riflemen have been the life and soul of our party. But the troopers behaved most handsomely, and obeyed orders as if they were our men. It is a good story, sir."
"And one we will hear," came the instant answer. "Er, Lieutenant——"
"Riley, sir."