Jack was only too glad to eat and drink. It was the first food that had passed his lips since he left the boat. Tio Jorge, too, ate like a famished man.
"Gracias, Contessa," he said in a softer voice than was usual with him.
When all had eaten and drunk, the lady picked up her baskets and moved away without hurry towards another part of the city.
"Who is she, hombre?" asked Jack.
"The noble Contessa de Bureta, Señor; a delicate, frail lady, as you see, but as fearless as—as I myself."
There was a breathing-space, during which the men rested, awaiting reinforcements, and rejoiced that the French were contenting themselves with their work from the houses, and made no further attempt at present to storm the barricade. Jack took stock of the situation. The house on the right could not be taken by assault; it was occupied in too great force by skilled marksmen. To ram the door by a direct blow was impossible, as experience had proved; the fire from the houses was so deadly that no bearers could live through it. While Jack was pondering, the little band had been reinforced by other citizens, and Tio Jorge was on the point of ordering another attack. But he had uttered only a few words of vehement encouragement when Jack interposed.
"Give me ten men, and I think in a few minutes we could drive the French from yonder house without great loss."
Tio Jorge looked doubtingly at Jack's eager face. They were crouching behind the barricade, and there was a temporary lull in the firing.
"How will you do that?" asked the Spaniard.
"Attack them from above."