"There! We've dished the fools!"
A few minutes afterwards there was a terrific roar, that for the moment drowned the fury of the torrent; then a blinding glare that flashed along the gray masonry and shot through the falling rain; and then, with a great crash, two arches and their supporting buttresses fell to the bottom of the river, where they lie to this day. The mine so laboriously excavated had exploded with complete success, and between the French and the English raged the boiling torrent, which effectually forbade present pursuit. Mocking cheers broke from the throats of the tired, drenched soldiers; then they turned their backs on the river and marched on, half-asleep, towards Benavente. Jack looked at his watch; it was just midnight.
When he awoke, at daylight next morning, some minutes passed before he realized where he was. He had no recollection of going to bed; in fact, on arriving in the town he had been so fatigued that he could have slept in his wet clothes on the road. But his man had been anxiously on the look-out, and it was to him that Jack owed his bed in the convent where his fellow-officers had found lodgment.
His dazed senses were fully recalled to him by the sound of Pepito's voice humming one of his gipsy songs outside the door.
"Pepito!" he called.
The boy bounded lightly into the room with an eagerness that bespoke, as clearly as words could have done, the affection he now bore towards the young Englishman.
"Find Giles for me, my boy," said Jack, "and tell him to get me something to eat—something substantial—for I'm ravenous."
When the boy returned, Jack had dressed.
"Find him? That's right. So you got here safely yesterday! You've not been up to any mischief, I hope?"
"No, Señor," replied Pepito gravely. "But I can, now that you are here."