“Los Franceses!  Los Franceses!” exclaimed he, breathless with speed.

One of the Empecinado’s first qualities was his presence of mind, which never deserted him even in the most critical situations.  Instantly forming up that moiety of his men which was already in the saddle, he left a detachment in front of those who were hastily saddling and arming, and with the remainder retired a little to the left of the open ground on which the bivouac was established.  Almost before he had completed this arrangement, the jingling of arms and clattering of horses’ feet were heard, and a squadron of French cavalry galloped down the glade.  The Empecinado gave the word to charge, and as Fuentes at the head of one party advanced to meet them, he himself attacked them in flank.  The French, not having anticipated much opposition from a foe whom they had expected to find sleeping, were somewhat surprized at the fierce resistance they met.  A hard fight took place, rendered still more confused by the darkness, or rather by a faint grey light, which was just beginning to appear, and gave a shadowy indistinctness to surrounding objects.  The Spaniards were inferior in number to their opponents, and it was beginning to go hard with them, when the remainder of the guerillas, now armed and mounted, came up to their assistance.  On perceiving this accession to their adversaries’ force, the French thought they had been led into an ambuscade, and retreating in tolerable order to the edge of the wood, at last fairly turned tail and ran for it, leaving several killed and wounded on the ground, and were pursued for some distance by the guerillas, who, however, only succeeded in making one prisoner.  This was a young man in the dress of a peasant, who being badly mounted, was easily overtaken.  On being brought before the Empecinado, the latter with no small surprize recognized a native of Aranda, named Pedro Gutierrez, who was one of the emissaries he had sent out two days previously to get information concerning the movements of the enemy.

With pale cheek and faltering voice, the prisoner answered the Empecinado’s interrogatories.  It appears that he had been detected as a spy by the French, who had given him his choice between a halter and the betrayal of his countrymen and employers.  With the fear of death before his eyes, he had consented to turn traitor.

The deepest silence prevailed among the guerillas during his narrative, and remained unbroken for a full minute after he had concluded.  The Empecinado’s brow was black as thunder, and his features assumed an expression which the trembling wretch well knew how to interpret.

“Que podia hacer, senores?” said the culprit, casting an appealing, imploring glance around him.  “The rope was round my neck; I have an aged father and am his only support.  Life is very sweet.  What could I do?”

“Die!” replied the Empecinado, in his deep stern voice—­“Die like a man then, instead of dying like a dog now!”