Jack went back to the village in the darkness, going in and out among the houses and the gardens, expecting every moment to come upon some traces of the men and animals. The night was silent, save for the steady downpour of rain and the dull roar of the flooded river, he knew not how far beyond. Presently he heard splashing footsteps, then two men rushed towards him breathless—first Giles, then Plunket.
"The French dragoons!" panted Giles.
"Not our own men?" said Jack quickly.
"No, sir. We heard hoofs, and ran up to the first house and waited; and then two vedettes came up and stopped at the wagon, and we heard the French lingo, sir."
"Then we must make ourselves scarce. Have we time to reach the bridge?"
But even as he spoke, the sound of galloping horses and rumbling wagons came from the other end of the village.
"We must cut, my men. Follow me!" cried Jack.
Running at full speed along the Villapando road, he did not draw breath until he reached the smithy where the tyre had been repaired.
"We must wait here till we know what is happening," he said.
As they stood by the dark forge, they heard the clash of steel and the shouts of officers from the village.