"I have told my mate about you," Garcia said, "so you need not be afraid of him; nor indeed of any of us. There is not a muleteer who would not do what he could to aid the escape of a British officer."
Most of the mules were already saddled, and Garcia went up with Terence to a man who was buckling a strap.
"Sanchez," he said, "this is our new comrade, Juan, who I told you would accompany us this journey."
The man nodded.
"It will be all the better," he said. "Twelve mules are rather too much for two men to manage, when we get among the mountains."
Garcia and Terence at once set to work to assist, and in ten minutes the cavalcade started. Garcia rode the leading mule, three others being tied in single file behind it. Terence came next, and Sanchez brought up the rear. The animals were fine ones, and Garcia was evidently proud of them; showing their good points to Terence, and telling him their names. The mules were all very fond of their master, turning their heads at once when addressed by name; and flapping their long ears in enjoyment, as he rubbed their heads or patted their necks.
The town was already astir and, as they reached the gates, country carts were pouring in, laden with fruits and vegetables for the market. Garcia stopped for a moment, as an old man came along with a cart.
"How are you, father?"
"How are you, Garcia? Off again?"
"Yes; I am going to Xeres for wine, for the French general."