By degrees the mob of undesirables diminished. The pace set by two mad Englishmen was far too hot. A few, however, still hung on, their appeals for alms giving place to abuse at the callousness of the British officers.
"Wish we had Laddie with us," remarked Webb. "He'd soon make the crowd take to their heels."
"Couldn't be done," said Osborne. "I thought of it, but there are the local quarantine restrictions to be taken into consideration. Also, there'd be a risk of the dog being shot by the Spanish Customs guards on the Neutral Ground. They're dead nuts on dogs."
"Why?" asked Tom.
"Because dogs are largely used by smugglers to run contraband into Gib. Of course, I'm sorry, but it can't be helped."
At last the Spaniards dropped behind and the chums were free of any embarrassing society. They, too, were glad to ease down, for the day was extremely sultry. There were bunches of delicious grapes to be had without let or hindrance, and altogether the two chums were beginning to enjoy themselves.
"How much farther?" enquired Tom at length.
Osborne consulted his watch.
"By Jove, we must look sharp!" he said. "We've a tidy step yet. In fact, we haven't got as far as Mayorga."
The road, hitherto by no means good, had deteriorated into a rough track. Progress, too, was impeded by several inlets, which meant considerable detours inland. Consequently it was late in the afternoon when, hot and tired, the young officers limped into the village of Mayorga, some five miles from the "Lines" of Gibraltar.