The road by which he was to travel would take him some six miles south of Zamora, and the distance to be ridden was between fifty and sixty miles.

He knew that he could not do this at a gallop, and went along at a steady pace, sometimes trotting and sometimes cantering.

It was now late in September and, at half-past five, it was still dark when Ryan approached the spot where the road he was following crossed the main road between Zamora and Salamanca.
He was riding at a canter, when suddenly, to his surprise and consternation, he rode into the midst of a body of cavalry, halted on the main road.

The sound of his horse's feet had been heard and, before he could even draw his sword, he was seized and taken prisoner.

A French officer rode down the line.
"What is the matter ?" he asked.
"We have taken a prisoner, sir," the sergeant answered.