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 amidst the discharge of fire-arms. One of the guides immediately dismounted, and crept on his hands and knees to discover the cause. He returned in a few minutes, and his report induced Lieutenant Thruston to dash at once into the thick of the fray. Round the house of the curd of the village, a throng of men had assembled, armed in every way according to their abilities, endeavouring to force their way in, and preventing one another by the general pressure. The guides vociferated “un oficial Ingles,” and the crowd instantly gave way. Lieutenant Thruston then rushed up stairs, and with some difficulty, forced his way into a room, where a scene of the most extraordinary nature presented itself:– a table was spread, with the remains of a supper on it, round which, but a few minutes before, a French courier and his escort, consisting of six dragoons, had seated themselves, having arrived about an hour previously, and taken up their quarters at the curé’s house, at the same time commanding refreshments, &c. for the night. Unfortunately for them, the village was one in which the insurrectionary spirit against the invaders of Spain was most conspicuous, and a considerable part of the population had arms in their possession: the news of the enemy’s arrival spread like wildfire, and in a very short time the house was completely besieged by a party, confident at least in their numbers. Upon the outer door being forced, the headmost men were shoved on by the crowd behind; and thus, whether they liked it or not, they found themselves opposed face to face with the dragoons. The latter had scarcely time to discharge their pistols before they were fairly overwhelmed; and it was at this critical moment that Lieutenant Thruston entered. The French were most of them lying prostrate, disfigured, and bleeding from wounds of various descriptions; the sub-officer, or leader, was on his knees before an athletic Spaniard, who was flourishing his sword most theatrically, not yet having made up his mind to give him the coup de grace. At the sight of the British uniform, the poor fellow made a spring towards its wearer, exclaiming, “''Sauvez ma vie, pour l’amour de Dieu! sauvez ma vie, monsieur!''” A respite of a few minutes was thus obtained,