"Thank you, my friends!" said the officer, when the tumult had subsided. "And now, as I have a few words to say to my men before I ride off, I will bid you good-day."
In a few moments the pacified crowd dispersed in small knots, discussing with interested curiosity the young officer whose courteous firmness and fluent Spanish had produced so remarkable an effect. When, last of all, the interpreter, having recovered from the blow, had made his way across the square, the horseman called up Corporal Wilkes, who advanced with a somewhat guilty air and saluted.
"Now, Corporal Wilkes, what do you mean by this? Have you forgotten the general's orders about brawling with the Spaniards?"
The corporal shifted his feet uneasily, and began to mumble an explanation in his slow ponderous way.
"That'll do," said the officer, cutting him short. "You're always in hot water. Get off to your quarters, and report yourself to me in the morning."
"Very good, sir."
With a look of injured innocence he saluted and slouched off with his companions, while the officer, touching his horse's flanks with the spur, cantered away. At the angle of the colonnade the crestfallen Riflemen were confronted by a tall stately figure in cocked hat and long military cloak, who had for some time been quietly watching the scene from an inconspicuous post of observation.
"Who's your officer, my man?"
The Riflemen halted in a line, struck their heels together, and brought their hands to the salute like automata.
"Mr. Lumsden, your honour," replied Wilkes, looking as though he would have liked to be elsewhere.