"We had scarcely concluded this miserable meal, which we shared fraternally—for on service, though discipline is never forgotten, the officer and private are more blended together, as real soldierly sentiment replaces empty etiquette—when we were startled by the report of two or three muskets in our immediate vicinity.
"'Hollo!' said Crogan, springing to the door of the house, 'the inimy 'ill be on us before we can say peas!'
"'Some guerillas, or picaros, or perhaps, Barba Roxa,' said I, setting down my flask of aguardiente, to listen.
"'Darby Roxy!—sure it 'ill be pleasant to meet a namesake.'
"'Not if he beats up our quarters, when we are in so poor a condition to resist any who might attempt it; and the watches and rings, &c., of so many sick officers are booty enough for a few enterprising Spaniards, who might try to knock the guard on the head. Look to our pistols, Crogan; bring up the horses, and we will ride forth to reconnoitre.'
"'Right, yer honour—I'm the man,' replied the active Irishman, as he looked to the priming of our pistols, loaded his carbine, and hurried to the shed close by, where our horses were chewing their rations of chopped straw; he saddled, and brought them to the door; and thus, in three minutes, we were both mounted. Meanwhile, the guards at each gate of the little town had turned out; and, leaving word to get the whole party under arms in the street, accompanied by Crogan, I rode at a rapid trot towards that direction in which the flashes had been seen by our sentinels.
"La Guardia lay buried in obscurity; the night was dark, and a thin vapour veiled the stars; but no moon was visible, though at times a red meteor flashed across the sky. As the warm night-wind passed over the vast tracts of waste and untilled land, it was laden with the rich aroma of those innumerable little plants like mignionette, which flourish by the wayside in all the wild parts of Spain.
"'Soft ground, sir,' said Crogan, as his horse stumbled among the dry-scorched soil; 'by the holy! this is just like still-hunting, only the bog, bad luck to it! is as dhry as a bone.'
"'Hush!' said I, reining in my horse; 'do you not hear something?'
"'By my troth I do,'replied Darby; and as he spoke, a musket flashed about a quarter of a mile distant; and then we heard a faint cry, like a woman's.