It seemed but a few minutes afterwards, although it was really several hours, before Archy knew anything more, and then it was a jolt of the coach that waked him. His senses returned instantly, and he knew where he was. He kept perfectly still, and peeping through the crack in the curtain, behind which he lay, still covered up, he saw that they were travelling along the highway towards the dim mountain ranges. Day had dawned, and the sun was rising over a beautiful landscape, although it was still December. Six stout mules drew the unwieldy vehicle along at a slashing gait.

Archy turned his head cautiously, so as to see without being seen, and perceived a stout, soldierly looking old man leaning back among the cushions and sleeping soundly, as his vociferous snores and snorts indicated unmistakably.

"This is Don Miguel de Lima," thought Archy. "He will wake up presently, and I can introduce myself better if I am sitting up and conducting myself like an officer and a gentleman than in hiding here like a brigand."

Archy then quietly slipped to his feet, and, setting himself back in the coach, calmly faced the old gentleman.

But Don Miguel did not wake up soon—he snored and snorted and slept for a couple of hours more, and the sun was high in the heavens before he opened his eyes, and saw, as he supposed, a handsome young peasant, who had apparently dropped out of the sky, in the coach with him.

Don Miguel fully sustained Pedro's account of his sang-froid, and after carefully examining Archy, and seeing at the first glance that it was not a peasant, but a handsome and soft-handed young gentleman, dressed, for purposes of his own, in peasant's costume, he said, in a tone of calm inquiry:

"Well, sir?"

Archy, giving the old gentleman a military salute, replied promptly in the best Spanish he could muster:

"I believe I have the honor of addressing his Excellency Don Miguel de Lima. I am Midshipman Archibald Baskerville, late of the continental ship Bon Homme Richard, and now a prisoner on parole"—and then he added, "Americano."

Archy got this far glibly enough, but when he wished to describe how he got into his present rig his Spanish was totally inadequate, and he took refuge in French; but his acquirements in that line running short, he dropped into English, and gave Don Miguel a very animated account of his adventures from the time he found himself in the boat until that moment. Don Miguel listened with the utmost courtesy and attention, and when Archy stopped for want of breath, calmly remarked, in Spanish:

"Your narrative is very interesting, no doubt; but I have not understood one word of it. I only know Spanish and French."

Archy, nothing discouraged, began again. He pulled out his watch and money, and that, with what he could tell about the boat and the loss of his clothes, and certain keen observations which Don Miguel made himself, convinced him that the young man who had suddenly rolled out from among the cloaks and blankets in the coach was what he represented himself to be. Archy could not but admire the cool courage of the old man, who took so debonairly the society of an unknown, who might be a robber or a murderer.

Not a word more was spoken, while they rolled and bumped along the high-road, until twelve o'clock, when, reaching a little village among the hills, they stopped. Pedro sprang from the box, opened the door, and nearly fainted when Archy almost jumped into his arms.

Archy then, bowing low to Don Miguel, thanked him ceremoniously, and saluted him as an officer. Don Miguel gravely returned the salute. At the inn Archy got something to eat, and, providing himself with a loaf of bread and a lot of cheese, struck out gayly on the highway towards Madrid. The day was bright, and the air, the space, the freedom, the exercise were exhilarating to Archy's active nature and sanguine temperament. The only thing that troubled him was that his friends at Gibraltar would be in distress about him. Probably at that very moment they were in deep grief, supposing him to be drowned. He remembered, however, the courtesy of the Spanish authorities in regard to letters, and determined at the next posting-house to write to Don Martin de Soltomayer, inclosing a letter to General Eliot and another to Captain Curtis. With this anxiety off his mind he trudged along cheerfully enough, shrewdly calculating that Don Miguel would overtake him, and possibly give him a lift. Many persons met and passed him, chiefly peasants in carts, and in about two hours he heard a tremendous clattering and jangling, and the coach with its six fine mules hove in sight. Archy, walking along the pathway, was intensely disappointed when it rattled on, with nothing more from Don Miguel except a bow in response to Archy's. But after it had passed it stopped, and Pedro came running back to say that his excellency desired to speak to the seÑor—for Pedro, too, had discerned the gentleman under the peasant's dress.

Archy, secretly delighted, went up to the coach, and Don Miguel asked him where he was bound.

"To Madrid, and thence to France."

"Get in," said Don Miguel, briefly, and Archy got in.

He thanked Don Miguel in his best French-Spanish, and then inquired about the next posting-house, where he could write a letter, mentioning that he had once met Don Martin de Soltomayer, and would endeavor to notify his friends of his safety, through Don Martin.

"I know him well," replied Don Miguel. "Has his deafness increased?"

"He was not deaf at all when I saw him," answered Archy.

"Ah. Perhaps it was his eye that was failing him—has he but one?"

"He had two when I saw him."

By which Don Miguel discovered that Archy really knew Don Martin.

They made no further stop until they halted for the night at an inn and posting-house. Archy wrote his letters, and finding that a courier for Gibraltar was expected in the next two days, felt relieved in his mind. He dared not spend any of his small amount of money in a room, and slept in the hay-loft. By sunrise he was on his way again, and, as on the day before, he was overtaken by the coach and given a lift. Stopping at a little town that day, Archy bought a couple of shirts, and, finding a bookstall, he invested a few copper coins in a Spanish dictionary and grammar. Reduced entirely to Spanish and French, it was surprising to him how magically he learned both, especially Spanish; and in a few days he found he could take care of himself very well in the Spanish language. Don Miguel and he conversed much then, and Archy could describe fluently, if ungrammatically, and interlarded with French, the fight of the Bon Homme Richard, and many other incidents which established his identity as an officer and a gentleman with an experienced man of the world like Don Miguel. He carefully avoided any reference to Gibraltar, and when Don Miguel asked him how he got into the open boat, Archy floundered so in his effort to tell about it in Spanish that Don Miguel could not make head or tail of it—which was just what Archy desired.

It cannot be said that either was bored with the other's company. Don Miguel retained a taste for adventure, and was secretly amazed at Archy's coolness, gayety, and boyish bravado, while Archy had sense enough to show both gratitude and respect to a man who had really helped him as had Don Miguel.

On the morning of the day when they expected to reach Madrid, Don Miguel asked Archy what his plans were.

"To go to the French Ambassador, declare myself, and ask to be sent to France."

"The French Embassy is closed on account of small-pox, so I have heard in the last few days. But I can easily introduce you to the Minister of Marine, who will investigate your case."

"May I ask how long this would take, Excellency?"

Don Miguel shrugged his shoulders.

"A month—two months, perhaps. The Minister of Marine will not be hurried."

Archy sat silent, and reflected. Presently he said:

"With these clothes, and the little money I have, I believe I could get to the French frontier in half the time."

"Do you expect to be taken for a Spanish peasant?" asked Don Miguel, with a suspicion of a smile.

"No," answered Archy, smiling very broadly.

Their last halt was at a large and flourishing village near Madrid. Some sort of a festa was going on; everybody was out in holiday clothes, and a company of strolling mountebanks was giving a performance. There were slack and tight rope walking, and dancing dogs, and a conjurer who ate fire.

Don Miguel, while the mules were baiting, sat in his coach in the little public square, but Archy had to be in the midst of things. He wandered about, and mixed with the village people, who, in their turn, mixed with the strollers, all being upon the most informal terms. After the tight-rope performance a trapeze was set up, and a harlequin, all in tights and spangles, came out and gave an alleged athletic performance which delighted the audience, but sent Archy into fits of laughter. The midshipmen on board the Bon Homme Richard and those on the Royal George, who were accustomed to run all over the rigging a hundred and fifty feet from the deck, could discount this unambitious gentleman, thought Archy, and as he commonly gave expression to what was in his mind he said this out loud.

"Do you think so?" replied the person to whom he made this indiscreet remark. "Perhaps you will show us something much better than that which we like."

"No, I thank you," replied Archy. "It is not in my line to do such things in public."

A group had gathered round him, and a chorus of jeers and sneers went up. The effect of this on Archy Baskerville may easily be imagined. He tore off his green velvet jacket, kicked off his shoes, and, springing on the trapeze, began a performance which was certainly far superior to the professional's, although not up to Archy's best form when on board ship. He swung by his feet, his knees, his chin; he made a spring and reached the wire, which was only a few feet above the trapeze. He worked rapidly along the wire by his feet and hands until he came to the end, which was fastened to the stone balcony of a tall building with a chimney. By that time the people were applauding frantically. He shinned up the front of the building by the windows and balconies, and, reaching the chimney, climbed to the top and squared himself off astride of it with his hands in his pockets. It was not nearly so high as the maintop-gallant yard of the Royal George, where he had often been.

The people at this went wild. Women shrieked and implored him to come down, and when he turned to come down they shrieked louder than ever. It would have been a dangerous pastime for any one except a sailor; but in a few minutes Archy had dropped to the ground, and, putting on his jacket and shoes, went up to Don Miguel, who still sat in the coach as unruffled as ever.

"You are a very venturesome young man," was his only comment.

"Oh no, sir," answered Archy; "that is the sort of thing we are taught aboard ship. A fellow that couldn't run all over the rigging would be in a bad way. I wager my friend, the acrobat yonder, couldn't do it."

The crowd quite surrounded the coach then, much to Don Miguel's disgust, who ordered them away. All left except one man, who was the manager of this band of strolling acrobats. He could not be persuaded that Archy was not a professional acrobat, in spite of his evidently being on terms with the grandee in the coach. He beckoned Archy a little way from the door of the great lumbering vehicle, and whispered in his ear:

"What will you take to join us? We are on our way north, perhaps as far as the Basque Provinces. I see you have been in the business, and we shall do well in the North. What will you take, I say?"

Archy looked at the man as if he were crazy, but in half a minute he began to see the matter in a new light. To the North—to the French frontier; that would be quicker and better than waiting indefinitely in Madrid. And if it leaked out that he had come from Gibraltar he was sure to be regarded with suspicion by the Madrid authorities.

"How long do you expect to be on the road?" he asked, under the influence of these new ideas.

"About two weeks. We shall only give performances in the large villages and towns. We want to reach Vitoria and St.-Jean-de-Luz by the middle of January, as they have festas about that time; and then we can come southward again before the Carnival. What will you take, I say?"

"How many of you are there?"

"Myself and my wife—she tells fortunes; Juan, who does the tight-rope; and Luis and his wife—they are all. What will you take for your services?"

"One-eighth of the receipts," said Archy, not knowing in the least whether he was making a good bargain or not, except that here was a chance to reach the frontier.

"Done!" cried the manager, joyfully.

Archy went up to Don Miguel and told him what he had done. An inscrutable smile came into the old man's face.

"Do as you like," he said; "I shall not betray you. On the contrary, I will give you Spanish money for your English money, and this—for I see you have no weapon." He fumbled about in the coach and produced a pistol, singularly small for those days. "This looks like a toy, but it is not; it was made and given me as a curiosity."

Archy thanked him feelingly, and found enough words in his vocabulary to say that Don Miguel's confidence was even more gratifying to him than the kindness and generosity he had received. And sunset saw Don Miguel rolling along alone in his coach into Madrid, while Archy, duly enrolled as a member of JosÉ Monza's company of wonderful acrobats, was trudging along, with a pack on his back, towards the tent in the fields which meant home to all of them.