Alan's plight back to Sabugal with instructions to discover
what more he could, and bring his report to Bellomonte on my northward
road not later than the 20th. On the afternoon of the 19th when I rode
into that place I could hear no news of him. But late in the evening
he arrived with word that "the great McNeill" had been sent off under
escort towards Salamanca. Of the strength of that escort he could tell
me nothing, and had very wisely not stayed to inquire; he had picked
up the news from camp gossip and brought it at once, rightly judging
that time was more valuable to me just now than detailed information.

His news was doubly cheering; it assured me that my kinsman still
lived, and also that by riding to secure Lord Wellington's help I had
not missed my opportunity. Yet there was need to hurry, for I had not
only to fetch a long circuit by difficult paths before striking the
road to the Pyrenees,--I had to find the _partidas_, persuade them,
and get them on to the road ahead of their quarry.

I need not describe my journey at length. I rode by Guarda, Almeida,
Ledesma, keeping to the north of the main road, and travelling, not by
day only, but through the better part of each night. Beyond the ford
of Tordesillas, left for the while unguarded, I was in country where
at any moment I might stumble on the guerilla bands, or at least get
news of them. The chiefs most likely for my purpose were "the three
M's"--the curate Merino, Mina and Mendizabal. Of these, the curate was
about the biggest scoundrel in Spain. I learned on my way that having
lately taken about a hundred prisoners near Aranda, he had hanged the
lot, sixty to avenge three members of the local junta put to death by
the French, and the rest in proportion of ten for every soldier of his
lost in the action. From dealing with such a blackguard I prayed to be
spared. And by all accounts Mina ran him close for brutal ferocity. I
hoped, therefore, for Mendizabal, but at Sedano I heard that Bonnet,
after foiling an attack by him on a convoy above Burgos, had beaten
him into the Asturias, where his scattered bands were now shifting as
best they could among the hills. Merino was in no better case, and
my only hope rested on Mina, who after a series of really brilliant
operations, helped out by some lucky escapes, had on the 7th with
five thousand men planted himself in ambush behind Vittoria, cut up
a Polish regiment, and mastered the same enormous convoy which h