"Eh? Don't!" came the facetious and grinning answer. "Don't, my boy; your brain'll not stand it."
"Seriously, though," Tom went on, ignoring his friend's good-natured raillery.
"Of course; you're always serious. Well, you're wondering; and I'm wondering why you're wondering instead of getting off to sleep. It's a beast of a night, raining cats and dogs, and a chap needs to sleep to escape the blues."
"It would do you good to be out with our pickets then," cried Tom warmly, irritated by his friend. "I've a good mind to send you off with a message to——"
That brought Jack sitting upright with a jerk. After all, Tom was his senior, ridiculous though it did appear, and if he carried out such a threat, why, Jack must perforce obey, though such a thing as an order had never yet come from his friend.
"You were wondering—yes," he jerked out hurriedly.
"Whether I should ride back to that village where we had that fight with the peasants. I'm ordered to enlist irregulars. I propose having a band here in Portugal and one in Spain, close to the border. We all know that the two peoples don't agree very well. There are continual jealousies between them; but they would work together on occasions. I propose going to that village to enlist the Portuguese part of my command."
The suggestion took Jack's breath away and filled him with horror.
"What! They'd tear you to pieces," he exclaimed. "It's madness. It's——"
"I shall ride there to-morrow," said Tom, cutting him short. "You can stay behind if you're nervous."