Juan, however, did not laugh at all, though he told me he would follow my orders to the utmost, and, indeed, was so silent that I asked him if his nerves were firm. To which he replied that I should see when the moment came.
And now upon the crisp night air we heard the clang of those on-coming hoofs ringing nearer and nearer; a rough or deadened kind of sound told us the iron shoes were on the fallen leaves which covered all the track from where the wood began; the scabbards of the riders flapped noisily now against spur and horses' flanks; bridles jangled very near.
Then they were close upon us--five of them!--and a voice called out:
"Halt, there! You are Englishmen--one a sailor and a spy passing through the land."
"You lie!" rang out Juan's voice, in answer. "We are not Englishmen."
That his reply in fluent Spanish--the Spanish, too, of a gentleman, and not of a common night patrol--astonished them, I could see. The leader, he who had spoken, glanced round at his four comrades, and, an instant after, spoke again:
"Who are you, then, and why does not the big man answer?"
"He speaks French. I am Spanish. Molest us not."
"Molest! Cuerpo di Baco! We are informed you are English. Produce your papers!"
"We have none. They are lost."