d of being massacred by his comrades. On the other
hand, there was the liability of being ourselves shot by the Carlists.
How were they to distinguish a neutral or a sympathizer from their foes?
I confess I could not help smiling as the thought occurred to me what a
piece of irony in action it would be if Barbarossa were to be helped to
a morsel of lead by his friends, the enemy. With a cheerful equanimity I
contemplated the prospect of his receiving a very slight contusion from
a spent bullet on a soft part of his frame.

Ping, ping, came a few reports, but evidently out of range. Each
smoke-wreath was in a different direction.

"This may get hot," I said to myself; "the Carlists may not be
sharpshooters, but this clump of uniforms in relief on the grass must
present a blur that will be an enticing target for them. I dare not go
back to the wall, but it might be discreet to lie down. There is no
disgrace in offering them a small elevation of corpus." I stretched
myself on the sward, acted nonchalance, and lit a cigar.

The volunteers could no longer be held in control. They opened action on
their own account, one fellow distinguishing himself by the rapidity of
his fire, and the intensity with which he aimed at something--or
nothing.

"Ah, that's Tomas!" said a portly civilian connoisseur, with his hands
in his pockets. "We know him, he is making music; he wants to get
himself remarked."

The soldiers did not deliver a shot, but the volunteers kept cracking
away, and the invisible Carlists replied. Nobody was hit, though
bullets could be heard whizzing overhead for twenty minutes, and one
did actually knock a chip off a wall. That was the sole damage done to
the Republican position; the damage to the Carlist must have been less.
Two of the Miqueletes ventured stealthily down a road leading towards
the point from which the nearest jets of smoke curled, following the
ditch by the side, stooping and peering through the bushes. There was a
volley from afar. They hesitated and stood, as if undecided whether to
advance.

"Sound the retire for those men," said the captain; and as the call rang
out they returned.

That volley was the last sign the Carlists gave; and after waiting ten
minutes, the captain shut up my glass, returned it to me, and remarked
that the attack was a feint, and had no object beyond worrying his men.
He gave the order "March," the gate was opened, Barbarossa rejoined me,
and we returned to Irun