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diff --git a/21374.txt b/21374.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..4ae7cba --- /dev/null +++ b/21374.txt @@ -0,0 +1,12025 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of !Tention, by George Manville Fenn + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: !Tention + A Story of Boy-Life during the Peninsular War + +Author: George Manville Fenn + +Illustrator: C.M. Sheldon + +Release Date: May 8, 2007 [EBook #21374] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK !TENTION *** + + + + +Produced by Nick Hodson of London, England + + + + +!Tention, a Story of Boy-Life during the Peninsular War, by George +Manville Fenn. + +________________________________________________________________________ + +A young private, Penton Gray, known as Pen, is injured during an +engagement in the Peninsular War. When he comes to he finds that the +boy bugler, Punch, from his regiment, is lying injured close by. The +British troops are near, but the area where the boys are is occupied by +the French, who are the enemy. The boys need to recover from their +wounds, and then to get back to their regiment. They have numerous +adventures, and meet several people who help them, including the deposed +Spanish King. + +Eventually they reach their regiment where they are interviewed by the +commanding officer, who realises that the young private has actually had +the education normally needed for an officer, and that he has the +knowledge needful to lead the troops through the mountains to take the +French in the rear. This engagement is very successful, leading to the +routing of the French. As a result Private Gray is made up to officer +rank. + +The book is well written, and is an enjoyable read or listen. + +________________________________________________________________________ + +!TENTION, A STORY OF BOY-LIFE DURING THE PENINSULAR WAR, BY GEORGE +MANVILLE FENN. + + + +CHAPTER ONE. + +TO SAVE A COMRADE. + +A sharp volley, which ran echoing along the ravine, then another, just +as the faint bluish smoke from some hundred or two muskets floated up +into the bright sunshine from amidst the scattered chestnuts and +cork-trees that filled the lower part of the beautiful gorge, where, now +hidden, now flashing out and scattering the rays of the sun, a torrent +roared and foamed along its rocky course onward towards its junction +with the great Spanish river whose destination was the sea. + +Again another ragged volley; and this was followed by a few dull, +heavy-sounding single shots, which came evidently from a skirmishing +party which was working its way along the steep slope across the river. + +There was no responsive platoon reply to the volley, but the skirmishing +shots were answered directly by _crack! crack! crack_! the reports that +sounded strangely different to those heavy, dull musket-shots which came +from near at hand, and hardly needed glimpses of dark-green uniforms +that dotted the hither slope of the mountain-side to proclaim that they +were delivered by riflemen who a few minutes before were, almost in +single line, making their way along a rugged mountain-path. + +A second glance showed that they formed the rear-guard of a body of +sharpshooters, beyond whom in the distance could be made out now and +then glints of bright scarlet, which at times looked almost orange in +the brilliant sunshine--orange flashed with silver, as the sun played +upon musket-barrel and fixed bayonet more than shoulder-high. + +The country Spain, amidst the towering Pyrenees; the scarlet that of a +British column making its way along a rugged mule-path, from which those +that traversed it looked down upon a scene of earthly beauty, and +upwards at the celestial blue, beyond which towered the rugged peaks +where here and there patches of the past winter's snow gleamed and +sparkled in the sun. + +Strategy had indicated retreat; and the black-green, tipped at collar +and cuff with scarlet, of England's rifle-regiment was covering the +retiring line, when the blue-coated columns of the French General's +division had pressed on and delivered the wild volleys and scattered +shots of the skirmishers which drew forth the sharp, vicious, snapping +reply of the retreating rear-guard. + +"At last!" said one of the riflemen, rising from where he had knelt on +one knee to take cover behind a bush, and there stand driving down a +cartridge with a peculiarly sharp, ringing sound of iron against iron, +before finishing off with a few heavy thuds, returning the bright rod to +its loops, and raising the pan of the lock to see that it was well +primed with the coarse powder of the day. + +"Yes--at last!" said his nearest comrade, who with a few more had halted +at a subaltern's command to wait in cover for a shot or two at their +pursuing foe. "Are we going to hold this place?" + +"No," said the young officer. "Hear that, my man?" For a note or two +of a bugle rang out sweet and clear in the beautiful valley, suggesting +to one of the men a similar scene in an English dell; but he sighed to +himself as it struck him that this was a different hunt, and that they, +the men of the --th, the one rifle-regiment of the British Army, were +the hunted, and that those who followed were the French. + +A few more cracks from the rifles as the retreat was continued, and then +the French musketry ceased; but the last of the sharpshooters obtained +glimpses of the blue coats of the French coming quickly on. + +"Have you sickened them, my lads?" said the young officer, as he led his +men after the retreating main body of their friends. + +"No, sir," said the young private addressed; "they seem to have lost +touch of us. The mule-track has led right away to the left here." + +"To be sure--yes. Then they will begin again directly. Keep your face +well to the enemy, and take advantage of every bit of cover.--Here, +bugler, keep close up to me." + +The sturdy-looking boy addressed had just closed up to his officer's +side when, as they were about to plunge into a low-growing patch of +trees, there was another volley, the bullets pattering amongst the +branches, twigs and leaves cut from above the men's heads falling +thickly. + +"Forward, my lads--double!" And the subaltern led his men through the +trees to where the mountain-side opened out a little more; and, pointing +with his sword to a dense patch a little farther on, he shouted, "Take +cover there! We must hold that patch.--Here, bugler!--Where's that +boy?" + +No one answered, the men hurriedly following the speaker at the double; +but the young private who had replied to the subaltern's questions, +having fallen back to where he was running with a companion in the rear, +looked over his shoulder, and then, startled by the feeling that the boy +had not passed through the clump, he stopped short, his companion +imitating his example and replying to the eager question addressed to +him: + +"I dunno, mate. I thought he was with his officer. Come on; we don't +want to be prisoners." + +He started again as he spoke, not hearing, or certainly not heeding, his +comrade's angry words-- + +"He must be back there in the wood." + +Carrying his rifle at the trail, he dashed back into the wood, hearing, +as he ran, shouts as of orders being given by the enemy; but he ran on +right through the clump of trees to where the mule-path meandered along +by the edge of the precipice, and lay open before him to the next patch +of woodland which screened the following enemy from view. + +But the path was not unoccupied, for there, about fifty yards from him, +he caught sight of his unfortunate young comrade, who, bugle in hand, +was just struggling to his feet; and then, as he stood upright, he made +a couple of steps forward, but only to stagger and reel for a moment; +when, as his comrade uttered a cry, the boy tottered over the edge of +the path, fell a few yards, and then rolled down the steep slope out of +sight. + +The young rifleman did not stop to think, but occupied the brief moments +in running to his comrade's help; and, just as a volley came crashing +from the open wood beyond the path, he dropped down over the side, +striving hard to keep his feet and to check his downward progress to +where he felt that the boy must have fallen. Catching vainly at branch +and rock, he went on, down and down, till he was brought up short by a +great mossy block of stone just as another volley was fired, apparently +from the mule-track high above him; and half-unconsciously, in the +confusion and excitement of the moment, he lay perfectly still, cowering +amongst the sparse growth in the hope that he might not be seen from the +shelf-like mule-track above, though expectant all the while that the +next shot fired would be at him. + +But, as it happened, that next shot was accompanied by many more; and +as, fearing to move, he strained his eyes upward, he could see the grey +smoke rising, and hear the sound of a bugle, followed by the rush of +feet, and he knew that, so far, he had not been seen, but that the +strong body of the enemy were hurrying along the mule-track in full +pursuit of his friends. + +"Just as if I had been running," muttered the young rifleman; and he +stole his left hand slowly upwards, from where he was lying in a most +awkward position, to rest it upon his breast as if to check the heavy +beating of his heart. + +"Ah!" he panted at last, as with strained eyes and ears he waited for +some sign of his presence behind the advancing enemy being known. +"Where's that boy?" he muttered hoarsely; and he tried to look about +without moving, so as not to expose himself to any who might be passing +along the rocky ledge. + +The next minute the necessity for caution was emphasised, for there was +a hoarse command from somewhere above, followed by the heavy tramp of +feet which told only too plainly that he was being cut off from his +regiment by another body of the enemy. + +"I couldn't help it," he said. "I couldn't leave that poor fellow +behind." + +He had hardly uttered this thought when, apparently from just beyond the +rugged mass of stone which had checked his descent, there came a low +groan, followed by a few words, amongst which the listener made out, +"The cowards!" + +"That you, Punch?" whispered the young rifleman excitedly. + +"Eh, who's that?" was the faint reply. + +"Hist! Lie still. I'll try and get to you directly." + +"That you, Private Gray?" + +"Yes, yes," was whispered back, and the speaker felt his heart leap +within his breast; "but lie still for a few moments." + +"Oh, do come! I'm--I've got it bad." + +The young private felt his heart sink again as he recalled the way in +which the boy had staggered and fallen from the edge of the track above +him. Then, in answer to the appeal for help, he passed his rifle over +his body, and, wrenching himself round, he managed to lower himself +beyond the mass of rock so as to get beneath and obtain its shelter from +those passing along the ledge, but only to slip suddenly for a yard or +two, with the result that the shrubs over which he had passed sprang up +again and supplied the shelter which he sought. + +"Punch! Punch! Where are you?" he whispered, as, satisfied now that he +could not be seen from above, he raised his head a little and tried to +make out him whom he sought. + +But all was perfectly still about where he lay, while the sound of +musketry came rolling and echoing along the narrow ravine; and above the +trees, in the direction in which his friends must be, there was a rising +and ever-thickening cloud of smoke. + +Then for a few minutes the firing ceased, and in the midst of the +intense silence there arose from the bushes just above the listener's +head a quick twittering of premonitory notes, followed by the sharp, +clear, ringing song of a bird, which thrilled the lad with a feeling of +hope in the midst of what the moment before had been a silence that was +awful. + +Then from close at hand came a low, piteous groan, and a familiar voice +muttered, "The cowards--to leave a comrade like this!" + + + +CHAPTER TWO. + +POOR PUNCH. + +Private Gray, of his Majesty's --th Rifles,--wrenched himself round once +more, pressed aside a clump of heathery growth, crawled quickly about a +couple of yards, and found himself lying face to face with the bugler of +his company. + +"Why, Punch, lad!" he said, "not hurt much, are you?" + +"That you, Private Gray?" + +"Yes. But tell me, are you wounded?" + +"Yes!" half-groaned the boy; and then with a sudden access of +excitement, "Here, I say, where's my bugle?" + +"Oh, never mind your bugle. Where are you hurt?" cried the boy's +comrade. + +"In my bugle--I mean, somewhere in my back. But where's my instrument?" + +"There it is, in the grass, hanging by the cord." + +"Oh, that's better," groaned the boy. "I thought all our chaps had gone +on and left me to die." + +"And now you see that they hav'n't," said the boy's companion. "There, +don't try to move. We mustn't be seen." + +"Yes," almost babbled the boy, speaking piteously, "I thought they had +all gone, and left me here. I did try to ketch up to them; but--oh, I +am so faint and sick that it's all going round and round! Here, Private +Gray, you are a good chap, shove the cord over my head, and take care +the enemy don't get my bugle. Ah! Water--water, please! It's all +going round and round." + +Penton Gray made no effort now to look round for danger, but, unstopping +his water-bottle, he crept closer to his companion in adversity, passed +the strap of the boy's shako from under his chin, thrust his cap from +his head to lie amongst the grass, and then opened the collar of his +coatee and began to trickle a little water between the poor fellow's +lips and sprinkled a little upon his temples. + +"Ah!" sighed the boy, as he began to revive, "that's good! I don't mind +now." + +"But you are hurt. Where's your wound?" said the young private eagerly. + +"Somewhere just under the shoulder," replied the boy. "'Tain't bleeding +much, is it?" + +"I don't know yet.--I won't hurt you more than I can help." + +"Whatcher going to do?" + +"Draw off your jacket so that I can see whether the hurt's bad." + +"'Tain't very," said the boy, speaking feebly of body but stout of +heart. "I don't mind, comrade. Soldiers don't mind a wound.--Oh, I +say!" he cried, with more vigour than he had previously evinced. + +"Did I hurt you?" + +"Yes, you just did. Were you cutting it with your knife?" + +"No," said his comrade with a half-laugh, as he drew his hand from where +he had passed it under the boy's shoulder. "That's what cut you, +Punch," and he held up a ragged-looking bullet which had dropped into +his fingers as he manipulated the wound. + +"Thought you was cutting me with your knife," said the boy, speaking +with some energy now. "But, I say, don't you chuck that away; I want +that.--What did they want to shoot me there for--the cowards! Just as +if I was running away, when I was only obeying orders. If they had shot +me in front I could have seen to it myself.--I say, does it bleed much?" + +"No, my lad; but it's an ugly place." + +"Well, who wants it to be handsome? I ain't a girl. Think you can stop +it, private?" + +"I think I can bind it up, Punch, and the bleeding will stop of itself." + +"That's good. I say, though, private--sure to die after it, ain't I?" + +"Yes, some day," said the young soldier, smiling encouragingly at the +speaker; and then by the help of a shirt-sleeve and a bandage which he +drew from his knapsack, the young soldier managed pretty deftly to bind +up his comrade's wound, and then place him in a more comfortable +position, lying upon his side. + +"Thank ye!" said the boy with a sigh. "But, I say, you have give it me +hot." + +"I am very sorry, boy." + +"Oh, never mind that. But just wipe my face; it's all as wet as wet, +and the drops keep running together and tickling." + +This little service was performed, and then the boy turned his head +uneasily aside. + +"What is it, Punch?" + +"That there bullet--where is it?" + +"I have got it safe." + +"That's right. Now, where's my bugle?" + +"There it is, quite safe too." + +"Yes, that's right," said the boy faintly. "I don't want to lose that; +but--Oh, I say, look at that there dent! What'll the colonel say when +he sees that?" + +"Shall I tell you, Punch?" said the young man, who bent over him, +watching every change in his face. + +"Yes--no. I know: `Careless young whelp,' or something; and the +sergeant--" + +"Never mind the sergeant," said the young sharpshooter. "I want to tell +you what the colonel will say, like the gentleman he is." + +"Then, what'll he say?" said the wounded lad drowsily. + +"That he has a very brave boy in his regiment, and--Poor chap, he has +fainted again! My word, what a position to be in! Our fellows will +never be able to get back, and if I shout for help it means hospital for +him, prison for me. What shall I do?" + +There was nothing to be done, as Pen Gray soon realised as he lay upon +his side in the shade of the steep valley, watching his wounded comrade, +who gradually sank into the sleep of exhaustion, while the private +listened for every sound that might suggest the coming on or retreating +of the French troops. His hopes rose once, for it seemed to him that +the tide of war was ebbing and flowing lower down the valley, and his +spirits rose as the mountain-breeze brought the sounds of firing +apparently nearer and nearer, till he felt that the English troops had +not only rallied, but were driving back the French over the ground by +which they had come. But as the day wore on he found that his hopes +were false; and, to make their position worse, fresh troops had come +down the valley and were halted about a quarter of a mile from where he +and his sleeping companion lay; while, lower down, the firing, which had +grown fiercer and fiercer, gradually died out. + +He was intently straining his ears, when to his surprise the afternoon +sun began to flash upon the weapons of armed men, and once more his +hopes revived in the belief that the French were being driven back; but +to his astonishment and dismay, as they came more and more into sight, a +halt seemed to have been called, and they too settled down into a +bivouac, and communications by means of mounted men took place between +them and the halted party higher up the valley; the young rifleman, by +using great care, watching the going to and fro unseen. + +Evening was coming on, and Pen Gray was still watching and wondering +whether it would be possible to take advantage of the darkness, when it +fell, to try and pass down the valley, circumvent the enemy, and +overtake their friends, when the wounded boy's eyes unclosed, and he lay +gazing wonderingly in his comrade's eyes. + +"Better, Punch?" said Pen softly. + +"What's the matter?" was the reply; and the boy gazed in his face in a +dazed, half-stupid way. + +"Don't you remember, lad?" + +"No," was the reply. "Where's the ridgment?" + +"Over yonder. Somewhere about the mouth of the valley, I expect." + +"Oh, all right. What time is it?" + +"I should think about five. Why?" + +"Why?" said the boy. "Because there will be a row. Why are we here?" + +"Waiting till you are better before trying to join our company." + +"Better? Have we been resting, then, because my feet were so bad with +the marching?" + +Pen was silent as he half-knelt there, listening wonderingly to his +comrade's half-delirious queries, and asking himself whether he had +better tell the boy their real position. + +"So much marching," continued the boy, "and those blisters. Ah, I +remember! I say, private, didn't I get a bullet into me, and fall right +down here? Yes, that's it. Here, Private Gray, what are you going to +do?" + +"Ah, what are we going to do?" said the young man sadly. "I was in +hopes that you would be so much better, or rather I hoped you might, +that we could creep along after dark and get back to our men; but I am +afraid--" + +"So'm I," said the boy bitterly, as he tried to move himself a little, +and then sank back with a faint groan. "Couldn't do it, unless two of +our fellows got me in a sergeant's sash and carried me." + +"I'd try and carry you on my back," said Pen, "if you could bear it." + +"Couldn't," said the boy abruptly. "I say, where do you think our lads +are?" + +"Beaten, perhaps taken prisoners," said Pen bitterly. + +"Serve 'em right--cowards! To go and leave us behind like this!" + +"Don't talk so much." + +"Why?" + +"It will make you feverish; and it's of no use to complain. They +couldn't help leaving us. Besides, I was not left." + +"Then how come you to be here?" said the boy sharply. + +"I came after you, to help you." + +"More old stupid you! Didn't you know when you were safe?" + +Pen raised his brows a little and looked half-perplexed, half-amused at +the irritable face of his comrade, who wrinkled up his forehead with +pain, drew a hard breath, and then whispered softly, "I say, comrade, I +oughtn't to have said that there, ought I?" + +Pen was silent. + +"You saw me go down, didn't you?" + +Pen bowed his head. + +"And you ran back to pick me up? Ah!" he ejaculated, drawing his breath +hard. + +"Wound hurt you much, my lad?" + +"Ye-es," said the lad, wincing; "just as if some one was boring a hole +through my shoulder with a red-hot ramrod." + +"Punch, my lad, I don't think it's a bad wound, for while you were +asleep I looked, and found that it had stopped bleeding." + +"Stopped? That's a good job; ain't it, comrade?" + +"Yes; and with a healthy young fellow like you a wound soon begins to +heal up if the wounded man lies quiet." + +"But I'm only a boy, private." + +"Then the wound will heal all the more readily." + +"I say, how do you know all this?" said the boy, looking at him +curiously. + +"By reading." + +"Reading! Ah, I can't read--not much; only little words. Well, then, +if you know that, I have got to lie still, then, till the hole's grown +up. I say, have you got that bullet safe?" + +"Oh yes." + +"Don't you lose it, mind, because I mean to keep that to show people at +home. Even if I am a boy I should like people to know that I have been +in the wars. So I have got to lie still and get well? Won't be bad if +you could get me a bundle or two of hay and a greatcoat to cover over +me. The wind will come down pretty cold from the mountains; but I +sha'n't mind that so long as the bears don't come too. I shall be all +right, so you had better be off and get back to the regiment, and tell +them where you have left me. I say, you will get promoted for it." + +"Nonsense, Punch! What for?" + +"Sticking to a comrade like this. I have been thinking about it, and I +call it fine of you running back to help me, with the Frenchies coming +on. Yes, I know. Don't make faces about it. The colonel will have you +made corporal for trying to save me." + +"Of course!" said Pen sarcastically. "Why, I'm not much older than +you--the youngest private in the regiment; more likely to be in trouble +for not keeping in the ranks, and shirking the enemy's fire." + +"Don't you tell me," said the boy sharply. "I'll let the colonel and +everybody know, if ever I get back to the ranks again." + +"What's that?" said Pen sharply. "If ever you get back to the ranks +again! Why, you are not going to set up a faint heart, are you?" + +"'Tain't my heart's faint, but my head feels sick and swimmy. But, I +say, do you think you ought to do any more about stopping up the hole so +as to give a fellow a chance?" + +"I'll do all I can, Punch," said Pen; "but you know I'm not a surgeon." + +"Course I do," said the boy, laughing, but evidently fighting hard to +hide his suffering. "You are better than a doctor." + +"Better, eh?" + +"Yes, ever so much, because you are here and the doctor isn't." + +The boy lay silent for a few minutes, evidently thinking deeply. + +"I say, private," he said at last, "I can't settle this all out about +what's going to be done; but I think this will be best." + +"What?" + +"What I said before. You had better wait till night, and then creep off +and follow our men's track. It will be awkward in the dark, but you +ought to be able to find out somehow, because there's only one road all +along by the side of this little river. You just keep along that while +it's dark, and trust to luck when it's daytime again. Only, look here, +my water-bottle's empty, so, as soon as you think it's dark enough, down +you go to the river, fill it, and bring it back, and I shall be all +right till our fellows fight their way back and pick me up." + +"And if they are not able to--what then?" said Pen, smiling. + +"Well, I shall wait till I get so hungry I can't wait any longer, and +then I will cry _chy-ike_ till the Frenchies come and pick me up. But, +I say, they won't stick a bayonet through me, will they?" + +"What, through a wounded boy!" said Pen angrily. "No, they are not so +bad as that." + +"Thank ye! I like that, private. I have often wished I was a man; but +now I'm lying here, with a hole in my back, I'm rather glad that I am +only a boy. Now then, catch hold of my water-bottle. It will soon be +dark enough for you to get down to the river; and you mustn't lose any +time. Oh, there's one thing more, though. You had better take my +bugle; we mustn't let the enemy have that. I think as much of my bugle +as Bony's chaps do of their eagles. You will take care of it, won't +you?" + +"Yes, when I carry it," said Pen quietly. + +"Well, you are going to carry it now, aren't you?" + +"No," said Pen quietly. + +"Oh, you mean, not till you have fetched the water?" + +Pen shook his head. + +"What do you mean, then?" + +"To do my duty, boy." + +"Of course you do; but don't be so jolly fond of calling me boy. You +said yourself a little while ago that you weren't much older than I am. +But, I say, you had better go now; and I suppose I oughtn't to talk, for +it makes my head turn swimmy, and we are wasting time; and--oh, Gray," +the boy groaned, "I--I can't help it. I never felt so bad as this. +There, do go now. Get the water, and if I am asleep when you come back, +don't wake me so that I feel the pain again. But--but--shake hands +first, and say good-bye." + +The boy uttered a faint cry of agony as he tried to stretch out his +hand, which only sank down helplessly by his side. + +"Well, good-bye," he panted, as Pen's dropped slowly upon the quivering +limb. "Well, why don't you go?" + +"Because it isn't time yet," said Pen meaningly, as after a glance round +he drew some of the overhanging twigs of the nearest shrub closer +together, and then passed his hand across the boy's forehead, and +afterwards held his wrist. + +"Thank you, doctor," said the boy, smiling. "That seems to have done me +good. Now then, aren't you going?" + +"No," said Pen, with a sigh. + +"I say--why?" + +"You know as well as I do," replied Pen. + +"You mean that you won't go and leave me here alone? That's what you +mean." + +"Yes, Punch; you are quite right. But look here. Suppose I was lying +here wounded, would you go off and leave me at night on this cold +mountain-side, knowing how those brutes of wolves hang about the rear of +the army? You have heard them of a night, haven't you?" + +"Yes," said the boy, shudderingly drawing his breath through his tightly +closed teeth. "I say, comrade, what do you want to talk like that for?" + +"Because I want you to answer my question: Would you go off and leave me +here alone?" + +"No, I'm blessed if I would," said the boy, speaking now in a voice full +of animation. "I couldn't do it, comrade, and it wouldn't be like a +soldier's son." + +"But I am not a soldier's son, Punch." + +"No," said the boy, "and that's what our lads say. They don't like you, +and they say--There, I won't tell you what." + +"Yes, tell me, Punch. I should like to know." + +"They say that they have not got anything else against you, only you +have no business here in the ranks." + +"Why do they say that?" + +"Because, when they are talking about it, they say you are a gentleman +and a scholard." + +"But I thought I was always friendly and sociable with them." + +"So you are, Private Gray," cried the boy excitedly; "and if ever I get +back to the ranks alive I'll tell them you are the best comrade in the +regiment, and how you wouldn't leave me in the lurch." + +"And I shall make you promise, Punch, that you never say a word." + +"All right," said the boy, with a faint smile, "I'll promise. I won't +say a word; but," he continued, with a shudder which did not conceal his +smile, "they will be sure to find it out and get to like you as much as +I do now." + +"What's the matter, Punch?" said Pen shortly. "Cold?" + +"Head's hot as fire, so's my shoulder; but everywhere else I am like +ice. And there's that swimming coming in my head again.--I don't mind. +It's all right, comrade; I shall be better soon, but just now--just +now--" + +The boy's voice trailed off into silence, and a few minutes later young +Private Penton Gray, of his Majesty's newly raised --th Rifles, nearly +all fresh bearers of the weapon which was to do so much to win the +battles of the Peninsular War, prepared to keep his night-watch on the +chilly mountain-side by stripping off his coatee and unrolling his +carefully folded greatcoat to cover the wounded lad. And that +night-watch was where he could hear the howling and answering howls of +the loathsome beasts that seemed to him to say: "This way, comrades: +here, and here, for men are lying wounded and slain; the watch-fires are +distant, and there are none to hinder us where the banquet is spread. +Come, brothers, come!" + + + +CHAPTER THREE. + +WHERE THE WOLVES HOWL. + +"Ugh!" A long, shivering shudder following upon the low, dismal howl of +a wolf. + +"Bah! How cold it is lying out here in this chilly wind which comes +down from the mountain tops! I say, what an idiot I was to strip myself +and turn my greatcoat into a counterpane! No, I won't be a humbug; that +wasn't the cold. It was sheer fright--cowardice--and I should have felt +just the same if I had had a blanket over me. The brutes! There is +something so horrible about it. The very idea of their coming down from +the mountains to follow the trail of the fighting, and hunt out the dead +or the wounded who have been forgotten or have crawled somewhere for +shelter." + +Pen Gray lay thinking in the darkness, straining his ears the while to +try and convince himself that the faint sound he heard was not a +movement made by a prowling wolf scenting them out; and as he lay +listening, he pictured to himself the gaunt, grisly beast creeping up to +spring upon him. + +"Only fancy!" he said sadly. "That wasn't the breathing of one of the +beasts, only the wind again that comes sighing down from the +mountains.--I wish I was more plucky." + +He stretched out his hand and laid his rifle amongst the shrubs with its +muzzle pointed in the direction from whence the sighing sound had come. + +"I'll put an end to one of them," he muttered bitterly, "if I don't miss +him in the dark. Pooh! They won't come here, or if they do I have only +to jump up and the cowardly beasts will dash off at once; but it is +horrid lying here in the darkness, so solitary and so strange. I +wouldn't care so much if the stars would come out, but they won't +to-night. To-night? Why, it must be nearly morning, for I have been +lying here hours and hours. And how dark it is in this valley, with the +mountains towering up on each side. I wish the day would come, but it +always does seem ten times as long when you are waiting and expecting +it. It is getting cold though. Seems to go right through to one's +bones.--Poor boy," he continued, as he stretched out one hand and gently +passed it beneath his companion's covering. "He's warm enough. No--too +hot; and I suppose that's fever from his wound. Poor chap! Such a boy +too! But as brave as brave. He must be a couple of years younger than +I am; but he's more of a man. Oh, I do wish it was morning, so that I +could try and do something. There must be cottages somewhere-- +shepherds' or goat-herds'--where as soon as the people understand that +we are not French they might give me some black-bread and an onion or +two." + +The young soldier laughed a soft, low, mocking kind of laugh. + +"Black-bread and an onion! How queer it seems! Why, there was a time +when I wouldn't have touched such stuff, while now it sounds like a +feast. But let's see; let's think about what I have got to do. As soon +as it's daylight I must find a cottage and try to make the people +understand what's the matter, and get them to help me to carry poor +Punch into shelter. Another night like this would kill him. I don't +know, though. I always used to think that lying down in one's wet +clothes, and perhaps rain coming in the night, would give me a cold; but +it doesn't. I must get him into shelter, though, somehow. Oh, if +morning would only come! The black darkness makes one feel so horribly +lonely.--What nonsense! I have got poor Punch here. But he has the +best of it; he can sleep, and here I haven't even closed my eyes. Being +hungry, I suppose.--I wonder where our lads are. Gone right off +perhaps. I hope we haven't lost many. But the firing was very sharp, +and I suppose the French have kept up the pursuit, and they are all +miles and miles away." + +At that moment there was a sharp flash with the report of a musket, and +its echoes seemed to be thrown back from the steep slope across the +torrent, while almost simultaneously, as Gray raised himself upon his +elbow, there was another report, and another, and another, followed by +more, some of which seemed distant and the others close at hand; while, +as the echoes zigzagged across the valley, and the lad stretched out his +hand to draw himself up into a sitting position, oddly enough that hand +touched something icy, and he snatched it back with a feeling of +annoyance, for he realised that it was only the icy metal that formed +his wounded companion's bugle, and he lay listening to the faint notes +of another instrument calling upon the men to assemble. + +"Why, it's a night attack," thought Pen excitedly, and unconsciously he +began to breathe hard as he listened intently, while he fully grasped +the fact that there were men of the French brigade dotted about in all +directions. + +"And there was I thinking that we were quite alone!" he said to himself. + +Then by degrees his short experience of a few months of the British +occupation on the borders of Portugal and Spain taught him that he had +been listening to a night alarm, for from out of the darkness came the +low buzz of voices, another bugle was sounded, distant orders rang out, +and then by degrees the low murmur of voices died away, and once more +all was still. + +"I was in hopes," thought Gray, "that our fellows were making a night +attack, giving the enemy a surprise. Why, there must be hundreds within +reach. That puts an end to my going hunting about for help as soon as +the day breaks, unless I mean us to be taken prisoners. Why, if I moved +from here I should be seen.--Asleep, Punch?" he said softly. + +There was no reply, and the speaker shuddered as he stretched out his +hand to feel for his companion's forehead; but at the first touch there +was an impatient movement, and a feeling of relief shot through the +lad's breast, for imagination had been busy, and was ready to suggest +that something horrible might have happened in the night. + +"Oh, I do wish I wasn't such a coward," he muttered. "He's all right, +only a bit feverish. What shall I do? Try and go to sleep till +morning? What's the good of talking? I am sure I couldn't, even if I +did try." + +Then the weary hours slowly crept along, the watcher trying hard to +settle in his own mind which was the east, but failing dismally, for the +windings of the valley had been such that he could only guess at the +direction where the dawn might appear. + +There were no more of the dismal bowlings of the wolves, though, the +scattered firing having effectually driven them away; but there were +moments when it seemed to the young watcher that the night was being +indefinitely prolonged, and he sighed again and again as he strained his +eyes to pierce the darkness, and went on trying to form some plan as to +his next movement. + +"I wonder how long we could lie in hiding here," he said to himself, +"without food. Poor Punch in his state wouldn't miss his ration; but +by-and-by, if the French don't find us, this bitter cold will have +passed away, and we shall be lying here in the scorching sunshine--for +it can be hot in these stuffy valleys--and the poor boy will be raving +for water--yes, water. Who was that chap who was tortured by having it +close to him and not being able to reach it? Tantalus, of course! I am +forgetting all my classics. Well, soldiers don't want cock-and-bull +stories out of Lempriere. I wonder, though, whether I could crawl down +among the bushes to the edge of the torrent and fill our water-bottles, +and get back up here again without being seen. But perhaps, when the +day comes, and if they don't see us, the French will move off, and then +I need only wait patiently and try and find some cottage.--Yes, what is +it?" + +He raised himself upon his arm again, for Punch had begun to mutter; but +there was no reply. + +"Talking in his sleep," said Pen with a sigh. "Good for him that he can +sleep! Oh, surely it must be near morning now!" + +The lad sprang to his knees and placed one hand over his eyes as he +strained himself round, for all at once he caught sight of a tiny speck +as of glowing fire right overhead, and he stared in amazement. + +"Why, that can't be daylight!" he thought. "It would appear, of course, +low down in the east, just a faint streak of dawn. That must be some +dull star peering through the clouds. Why, there are two of them," he +said in a whisper; "no, three. Why, it is day coming!" And he uttered +a faint cry of joy as he crouched low again and gazed, so to speak, with +all his might at the wondrous scene of beauty formed by the myriad +specks of orange light which began to spread overhead, and grow and grow +till the mighty dome that seemed supported in a vast curve by the +mountains on either side of the valley became one blaze of light. + +"Punch," whispered Pen excitedly, "it's morning! Look, look! How +stupid!" he muttered. "Why should I wake him to pain and misery? Yes, +it is morning, sure enough," he muttered again, for a bugle rang out +apparently close at hand, and was answered from first one direction and +then another, the echoes taking up the notes softly and repeating them +again and again till it seemed to the listener as if he must be lying +with quite an army close at hand awakening to the day. + +The light rapidly increased, and Pen began to look in various directions +for danger, wondering the while whether some patch of forest would offer +itself as an asylum somewhere close at hand; but he only uttered a sigh +of relief as he grasped the fact that, while high above them the golden +light was gleaming down from the sun-flecked clouds, the gorges were +still full of purple gloom, and clouds of thick mist were slowly +gathering in the valley-bottom and were being wafted along by the breath +of morn and following the course of the river. + +To his great relief too, as the minutes glided by, he found that great +patches of the rolling smoke-like mist rose higher and higher till a +soft, dank cloud enveloped them where they lay, and through it he could +hear faintly uttered orders and the tramp of men apparently gathering +and passing along the shelf-like mule-path. + +"And I was longing for the sun to rise!" thought Pen.--"Ah, there's an +officer;" for somewhere just overhead there was the sharp click of an +iron-shod hoof among the rocks. "He must have seen us if it hadn't been +for this mist," thought the lad. "Now if it will only last for half an +hour we may be safe." + +The mist did last for quite that space of time--in fact, until Pen Gray +was realising that the east lay right away to his right--for a golden +shaft of light suddenly shot horizontally from a gap in the mountains, +turning the heavy mists it pierced into masses of opalescent hues; and, +there before him, he suddenly caught sight of a cameo-like figure which +stood out from where he knew that the shelf-like mule-path must run. +The great bar of golden light enveloped both rider and horse, and +flashed from the officer's raised sword and the horse's trappings. + +Then the rolling cloud of mist swept on and blotted him from sight, and +Pen crouched closer and closer to his sleeping comrade, and lay with +bated breath listening to the tramp, tramp of the passing men not a +hundred feet above his head, and praying now that the wreaths of mist +might screen them, as they did till what seemed to him to be a strong +brigade had gone on in the direction taken by his friends. + +But he did not begin to breathe freely till the tramping of hoofs told +to his experienced ears that a strong baggage-train of mules was on its +way. Then came the tramp of men again. + +"Rear-guard," he thought; and then his heart sank once more, for the +tramping men swept by in the midst of a dense grey cloud, which looked +like smoke as it rolled right onward, and as if by magic the sun burst +out and filled the valley with a blaze of light. + +"They must see us now," groaned Pen; and he closed his eyes in his +despair. + + + +CHAPTER FOUR. + +"WATER, OR I SHALL DIE!" + +Pen's heart beat heavily as he lay listening to the tramping of feet +upon the rocky shelf, and at last the sounds seemed so close that he +drew himself together ready to spring to his feet and do what he could +to protect his injured comrade. For in his strange position the idea +was strong upon him that their first recognition by the enemy might be +made with the presentation of a bayonet's point. + +But his anticipations proved to be only the work of an excited brain; +and, as he lay perfectly still once more, the heavy tramp, tramp, a good +deal wanting in the regularity of the British troops, died out, and he +relieved the oppression that bore down upon his breast with a deep sigh. + +Nothing was visible as the sounds died out; and, waiting till he felt +that he was safe, he changed his position slightly so as to try and make +out whether the rear-guard of the enemy had quite disappeared. + +In an instant he had shrunk down again amongst the bushes, for there, +about a hundred yards away, at the point of an angle where the mule-path +struck off suddenly to the left, and at a spot that had undoubtedly been +chosen for its command of the road backward, he became aware of the +presence of an outpost of seven or eight men. + +This was startling, for it put a check upon any attempt at movement upon +his own part. + +Pen lay thinking for a few moments, during which he made sure that his +comrade was still plunged in a deep, stupor-like sleep. Then, after a +little investigation, he settled how he could move slightly without +drawing the attention of the vedette; and, taking advantage thereof, +crawled cautiously about a couple of yards with the greatest care. +Then, looking back as he slowly raised his head, which he covered with a +few leafy twigs, he was by no means surprised to see at the edge of the +mule-path about a quarter of a mile away another vedette. This shut off +any attempt at retreat in that direction, and he was about to move again +when he was startled by a flash of light reflected from a musket-barrel +whose bearer was one acting as the leader of a third vedette moving up +the side of the valley across the river, and which soon came to a halt +at about the same height above the stream as that which he occupied +himself. + +The lad could not control a movement of impatience as the little knot of +infantry settled themselves exactly opposite to his own hiding-place, +and in a position from which the French soldiers must be able to control +one slope of the valley for a mile in each direction. + +"It's maddening!" thought Pen. "I sha'n't be able to stir, and I dare +say they'll have more vedettes stationed about. It means giving up, and +nothing else." + +Very slowly and cautiously he wrenched himself round, and then rolled +over twice so as to bring himself alongside of his sleeping comrade; and +then, as he resumed his reconnoitring, where he was just able to command +the farther side of the valley away to his right and in a direction +where he hoped to find the land clear, he started again. + +"Why, they are everywhere!" said the lad half-aloud and with a faint +groan of dismay; for there, higher up the opposite side, were a couple +of sentries who seemed to be looking straight down upon him. "Why, they +must have seen me!" he muttered; and for quite an hour now he lay +without stirring, half in the expectation of seeing the low bushes in +motion and a little party of the blue-coated enemy coming across to +secure fresh prisoners. + +But the time wore on, with the chill of the night dying out in the warm +sunshine now beginning to search Pen's side of the valley with the +bright shafts of light, which suggested to him the necessity for +covering his well-kept rifle with the leafy twigs he was able to gather +cautiously so as not to betray his presence. + +He was in the act of doing this when, turning his head slightly, a flash +of light began to play right into his eyes, and he stopped short once +more to try and make out whether this had been seen by either of the +enemy on duty, for he now awoke to the fact that poor Punch's bugle was +lying quite exposed. + +The fact was so startling that, instead of trying to reach its cord and +draw the glistening instrument towards him, he lay perfectly still +again, sweeping the sides of the valley as far as he could in search of +danger, but searching in vain, till the thought occurred to him that he +might achieve the object he had in view by cautiously taking out his +knife and cutting twig after twig so that they might fall across the +curving polished copper. + +This he contrived to do, and then lay still once more, breathing freely +in the full hope that if he gave up further attempt at movement he might +escape detection. + +"Besides," he said to himself, with a bitter smile playing upon his +lips, "if they do make us out they may not trouble, for they will think +we are dead." + +He lay still then, waiting for Punch to awaken so that he could warn him +to lie perfectly quiet. + +The hours glided by, with the sun rising higher and setting the watcher +thinking, in spite of his misery, weariness, and the pangs of hunger +that attacked him, of what a wonderfully beautiful contrast there was +between the night and the day. With nothing else that he could do, he +recalled the horrors of the past hours, the alternating chills of cold +and despair, and the howlings of the wolves; and he uttered more than +one sigh of relief as his eyes swept the peaks away across the valley, +which here and there sent forth flashes of light from a few scattered +patches of melting snow, the beautiful violet shadows of the transverse +gullies through which sparkling rivulets descended with many a fall to +join the main stream, which dashed onward with the dull, musical roar +which rose and fell, now quite loud, then almost dying completely away. +The valley formed a very paradise to the unfortunate fugitive, and he +muttered bitterly: + +"How beautiful it would have been under other circumstances, when such a +wondrous scene of peace was not disfigured by war! So bitterly cold +last night," thought the young private impatiently, for he was fighting +now against two assaults, both of which came upon him when he was trying +hard to lie perfectly still and maintain his equanimity while the pangs +of hunger and thirst were growing poignant. "It seems so easy," he +muttered, "to lie still and keep silence, and here I am feeling that I +must move and do something, and wanting so horribly to talk. It would +be better if that poor boy would only awaken and speak to me. And +there's that water, too," he continued, as the faint plashing, rippling +sound rose to his ears from below. "Oh, how I could drink! I wish the +wind would rise, so that I couldn't hear that dull plashing sound. How +terribly hot the sun is; and it's getting worse!" + +Then a horrible thought struck him, that Punch might suddenly wake up +and begin to talk aloud, feverish and delirious from his sufferings; and +then when Pen's troubles were at their very worst, and he could hardly +contain himself and keep from creeping downwards to the water's edge, it +seemed as if a cloud swept over him, and all was blank, for how long he +could not tell, but his fingers closed sharply to clutch the twigs and +grass amongst which he lay as he started into full consciousness. + +"Why, I have been asleep!" he muttered. "I must have been;" and he +stared wildly around. There was a great shadow there, and now the sun +is beating down upon that little gully and lighting up the flashing +waters of the fall. "Why, I must have been sleeping for hours, and it +must be quite midday." + +His eyes now sought the positions of the different vedettes, and all was +so brilliant and clear that he saw where the men had stood up their +muskets against bush or tree, noted the flash from bayonets and the +duller gleam from musket-barrels. In one case, too, the men were +sheltering themselves beneath a tree, and this sent an additional pang +of suffering through the lad, as he felt for the first time that the sun +was playing with burning force upon his neck. + +"It's of no use," he said. "Even if they see me, I must move." + +But he made the movement with the mental excuse that it was to see how +his wounded companion fared. + +It only meant seizing hold of a clump of wiry heather twice over and +drawing himself to where his face was close to the sleeper. Then he +resigned himself again with a sigh to try and bear his position. + +"He's best off," he muttered, "bad as he is, for he can't feel what I +do." + +How the rest of that day of scorching sunshine and cruel thirst passed +onward Pen Gray could not afterwards recall. For the most part it was +like a feverish dream, till he awoke to the fact that the sun was +sinking fast, and that from time to time a gentle breath of cool air was +wafted down from the mountains. + +Then the hunger began to torture him again, though at times the thirst +was less. His brain was clearer, though, and he lay alternately +watching the vedettes and noting that they had somewhat changed their +positions, and trying to perfect his plans as to what he must do as soon +as the shades of night should render it possible for him to move unseen. + +Finally, the last sentry was completely blotted out by the gathering +darkness; and, uttering the words aloud, "Now for it!" Pen tried to +raise himself to his knees before proceeding to carry out his plan, when +he sank back again with an ejaculation half of wonder, half of dread. +For a feeling of utter numbness shot through him, paralysing every +movement; while, prickling and stinging, every fibre of his frame +literally quivered as he lay there in despair, feeling that all his +planning had been in vain, and that now the time had arrived when he +might carry out his attempt in safety the power of movement had +absolutely gone. + +How long he lay like this he could not tell, but it was until the +night-breeze was coming down briskly from the mountains, and the sound +of the plashing water far below sent a sudden feeling of excitement +through his nerves. + +"Water!" he muttered. "Water, or I shall die!" + + + +CHAPTER FIVE. + +HARD WORK. + +It was like coming back to life. In an instant Pen felt full of energy +and excitement once more. The pangs of hunger supplemented those of +thirst; and, almost raging against them now, he felt that he must fight, +and he rose with an effort to his feet, with the tingling numbness +feeling for the moment worse than ever, but only to prick and spur him +into action. + +"Ah!" he ejaculated, "it is like life coming back." Turning to where +his comrade lay breathing heavily, he snatched off the leafy twigs with +which he had sheltered him. + +"Asleep, Punch?" he said; but he was only answered by a low sigh. + +"Poor boy!" he muttered; "but I must." + +He snatched off, full of energy now, his jacket and overcoat, and +resumed them. Then, picking up his rifle, he slackened the sling and +passed it over his shoulder. In doing this he kicked against the bugle, +and slung the cord across the other shoulder. Then, tightening the +strap of his shako beneath his chin, he drew a deep breath and looked +first in the one direction and then in another in search of the +vedettes; but all was darkness for a while, and he was beginning to feel +the calm of certainty as regarded their being perfectly free from +observation, when, from the nearest point where he had made out the +watchers, he suddenly became aware of how close one party was by seeing +the faint spark of light which the next minute deepened into a glow, and +the wind wafted to his nostrils the odour of coarse, strong tobacco. + +"Ah, nearer than I thought," said the lad to himself, and, looking round +once more, he made out another faint glow of light; and then, bending +over his comrade, he felt about for his hands and glided his own to the +boy's wrists, which felt dank and cold, as he stood thinking for a +moment or two of the poor fellow's condition. + +"I can't help it. My only hope is that he is quite insensible to pain. +He must be, or he couldn't sleep like this. It must be done." + +Pen's plans had been carefully laid, and he had not anticipated any +difficulty. + +"It's only a matter of strength," he said to himself, "and I feel +desperate and strong enough now to do anything." + +But it meant several failures, and he was checked by groan after groan +before he at last managed to seat himself with his back to the wounded +boy, after propping him up against one of the gnarled little oak-trunks +amongst which they had been lying. + +Again and again he had been hindered by the rifle slung across his back. +More than once, too, he had despairingly told himself that he must cast +it aside, but only to feel that at any cost a soldier must hold to his +arms. Then it was the cartouche-box; this, drawn round before him, he +was troubled by the position of his haversack, and ready to rage with +despair at the difficulties which he had to overcome. + +At last, though, he sat there shivering, and listening to try and make +out whether the poor boy's moanings had been heard, before drawing a +deep breath and beginning to drag the poor fellow's wrists over his +shoulders. Then, making one tremendous heave as he threw himself +forward, he had Punch well upon his back and staggered up, finding +himself plunging down the slope headlong as he struggled to keep his +feet, but in vain; for his balance was gone, and a heavy fall was saved +by his going head first into the tangled branches of a scrub oak, where +he was brought up short with his shako driven down over his eyes. + +Penton regained his balance and his breath--to stand listening for some +sound of the enemy having taken the alarm, but all was quite still--and, +freeing his rifle, he began to use it in the darkness as a staff of +support, and to feel his way amongst the shrubs and stones downward +always, the butt saving him from more than one fall, for he could not +take a step without making sure of a safe place for his feet before he +ventured farther. + +It was a long and tedious task; but in the silence of the night the +sound of the rushing water acted as a guide, and by slow degrees, and +after many a rest, he felt at last that he must be getting nearer to the +river. + +But, unfortunately, the lower he plunged downwards the deeper grew the +obscurity, while the moisture from the rushing stream made the tangled +growth more dense. Consequently, he had several times over to stop and +fight his way out of some thicket and make a fresh start. + +At such times he took advantage more than once of some low-growing +horizontal oak-boughs, which barred his way and afforded him a +resting-place, across which he could lean and make the bough an easy +support for his burden. + +It had seemed but a short distance down to the stream from where he +scrutinised his probable path overhead, and doubtless without burden and +by the light of day half an hour would have been sufficient to carry him +to the river's brink; but it was in all probability that nearer three +hours had elapsed before his farther progress was checked by his finding +himself in the midst of a perfect chaos of rocks, just beyond which the +water was falling heavily; and, utterly exhausted, he was glad to lower +his burden softly down upon a bed of loose shingle and dry sand. + +"There's nothing for it but to wait for day," he said half-aloud, and +then--after, as best he could in the darkness, placing the wounded boy +in a comfortable position and again covering him with his outer +garments--he began to feel his way cautiously onward till he found that +every time and in whatever direction he thrust down the butt of his +rifle it plashed into rushing water which came down so heavily that it +splashed up again into his face, and in spite of the darkness he could +feel that he was standing somewhere at the foot of a fall where a heavy +volume of water was being dashed down from a considerable height. + +Pen's first proceeding now was to go down upon his knees as close to the +torrent as he could get, and there refill his water-bottle, before +(after securing it) he leaned forward and lowered his face until his +lips touched the flowing water, and he drank till his terrible thirst +was assuaged. + +This great desire satisfied, he rose again, to stand listening to the +heavy rush and roar of the falls, which were evidently close at hand, +and whose proximity produced a strange feeling of awe, suggestive, as it +were, of a terrible danger which paralysed him for the time being and +held him motionless lest at his next step he should be swept away. + +The feeling passed off directly as the thought came that his comrade was +insensible and dependent upon him for help; and it struck him now that +he might not be able in that thick darkness to find the spot where he +had left him. + +This idea came upon him with such force as he made a step first in one +direction and then in another that he began to lose nerve. + +"Oh, it won't do to play the coward now," he muttered. "I must find +him--I must! I must try till I do." + +But there is something terribly confusing in thick darkness. It is as +if a natural instinct is awakened that compels the one who is lost to go +wrong; and before Pen Gray had correctly retraced his steps from where +he had lain down to drink he had probably passed close to his insensible +companion at least a score of times, while the sense of confusion, the +nearness of danger and a terrible death, grew and grew till in utter +despair and exhaustion he staggered a few steps and sank down almost +breathless. + +"It is no good," he groaned to himself. "I can do no more. I must wait +till daylight." + +As he lay stretched out upon his back, panting heavily from weakness, it +seemed to him that the roar of the falling water had redoubled, and the +fancy came upon him that there was a tone of mocking triumph over his +helplessness. In fact, the exertion which he had been called upon to +make, the want of sleep, and possibly the exposure during many hours to +the burning sun, had slightly affected his brain, so that his wild +imagination conjured up non-existent dangers till all was blank, for he +sank into the deep sleep of exhaustion, and lay at last open-eyed, +wondering, and asking himself whether the foaming water that was +plunging down a few yards away was part of some dream, in which he was +lying in a fairy-like glen gazing at a rainbow, a little iris that +spanned in a bridge of beauty the sparkling water, coming and going as +the soft breeze rose and fell, while the sun sent shafts of light +through the dew-sprinkled leaves of the many shrubs and trees that +overhung the flowing water and nearly filled the glen. + +Sleep still held him in its slackening grasp, and he lay motionless, +enjoying the pleasant sense of coolness and rest till his attention was +caught by a black-and-white bird which suddenly came into sight by +alighting upon a rock in the midst of the rushing stream. + +It was one of many scattered here and there, and so nearly covered by +the water that every now and then, as the black-and-white bird hurried +here and there, its legs were nearly covered; but it seemed quite at +home, and hurried away, wading easily and seldom using its wings, till +all at once, as Pen watched, he saw the little creature take a step, +give its tail a flick, and disappear, not diving but regularly walking +into deep water, to reappear a few yards away, stepping on to another +rock, running here and there for a few moments, and again disappearing +in the most unaccountable way. + +"It is all a dream," thought Pen. "Ducks dive, but no bird could walk +under water like that. Why, it's swimming and using its wings like a +fish's fins. I must be asleep." + +At that moment the bird stepped on to another rock, to stand heel-deep; +and as it was passing out of sight with a quick fluttering of its wings, +which did not seem to be wetted in the least, Pen made an effort to +raise himself on his elbow, felt a dull, aching sensation of strain, and +lost sight of the object that had caught his attention. He found, +however, that it was no dream, for across the little torrent and high up +the steep, precipitous bank before him he could see a goat contentedly +browsing upon the tender green twigs of the bushes; while, at his next +movement, as he tried to raise himself a little more, there within +touch, and half behind him, lay the companion whose very existence had +been blotted out of his mind; and he uttered a cry of joy--or rather +felt that he did, for the sound was covered by the roar of the falling +water--and dragged himself painfully to where he could lay one hand upon +the bugle-boy's breast. + +"Why, Punch," he felt that he cried, as the events of the past hours +came back with a rush, "I thought I'd lost you. No, I fancied--I--Here, +am I going mad?" + +He felt that he shouted that question aloud, and then, sending a pang +through his strained shoulder, he clapped his hands to his forehead and +looked down wildly at the still insensible boy. + +"Here, Punch! Punch!" he repeated inaudibly. "Speak--answer! I--oh, +how stupid!" he muttered--"I am awake, and it is the roar of that water +that seems to sweep away every other sound. Yes, that must be it;" for +just then he saw that the goat had raised its head as it gazed across at +him, and stretched out its neck. + +"Why, it's bleating," he said to himself, "and I can't hear a sound." + +The efforts he had made seemed to enable him to think more clearly, and +his next act was to rise to his knees stiffly and painfully, and then +begin to work his joints a little before bending over his companion and +shrinkingly laying his hand upon his breast. + +This had the desired effect--one which sent a strange feeling of relief +through the young private's breast--for the wondering, questioning eyes +he now met looked bright and intelligent, making him bend lower till he +could speak loudly in the boy's ear the simple question, "How are you?" + +He could hardly hear the words himself, but that they had been heard by +him for whom they were intended was evident, for Punch's lips moved in +reply, and the next moment, to Pen's delight, he raised one hand to his +parched lips and made a sign as of drinking. + +"Ah, you are better!" cried Pen excitedly, and this time he felt that he +almost heard his own words above the deep-toned, musical roar. + + + +CHAPTER SIX. + +PEN'S PATIENT. + +Punch's appealing sign was sufficient to chase away the imaginative +notions that had beset Pen's awakening. His hand went at once to the +water-bottle slung to his side, and, as he held the mouth to his +comrade's lips and forgot the pain he suffered in his strained and +stiffening joints, he watched with a feeling of pleasure the avidity +with which the boy drank; and as he saw the strange bird flit by once +more he recalled having heard of such a bird living in the west country. + +"Yes," he said to himself, "I remember now--the dipper. Busy after +water-beetles and perhaps after tiny fish.--You are better, Punch, or +you wouldn't drink like that;" and he carefully lowered the boy's head +as he ceased drinking. "Yes, and though I can't hear you, you have come +to your senses again, or you would not look at me like that.--Ah, I +forgot all about them!" For a sound other than that produced by the +falling waters came faintly to his ear. It was from somewhere far +above, and echoed twice. "Yes, I had forgotten all about them." + +He began looking anxiously about him, taking in the while that he was +close to the river where it ran in a deep, precipitous gully; and as he +looked up now to right and then to left, eagerly and searchingly, for +the danger that he knew could not be far away, his eyes ranged through +densely wooded slopes, lit up here and there by the morning sunshine, +and always sweeping the sides of the valley in search of the vedettes, +but without avail, not even the rugged mule-path that ran along the side +being visible. + +"They are not likely to see us here," Pen said to himself, "and they +can't have seen me coming down. Oh, what a job it was! I feel as if I +must have been walking in my sleep half the time, and I am so stiff I +can hardly move. But I did it, and we must be safe if we can keep out +of sight; and that ought to be easy, for they are not likely to come +down here. Now, what's to be done?" + +That was a hard question to answer; but growing once more full of energy +now that he was satisfied that there was no immediate danger, Pen +stepped back lamely, as if every muscle were strained, to his +companion's side, to be greeted with a smile and a movement of the boy's +lips. + +"Now, let's see to your wound," he said, with his lips to the boy's ear; +and he passed one hand under Punch's wounded shoulder to try and turn +him over. This time, as Punch's lips parted and his face grew convulsed +with pain, Pen's ears mastered the roar, and he heard the sufferer's +cry. + +"Hurt you too much?" he said, as he once more put his lips to the boy's +ear. + +The answer was a nod. + +"Well," thought Pen, "he must be better, so I'll let him be; but we +can't stop here. I must try and get him through the trees and away from +this horrible noise. But I can't do it now. At least, I don't think I +can. Then, what's next?" + +The inaudible reply to the question came from somewhere inside, and he +bent closer over Punch once more. + +"Aren't you hungry?" he roared in his ear. + +The boy shook his head. + +"Well, I am," shouted Pen.--"Oh, how stupid! This is like telling the +enemy where we are, if they are anywhere within hearing. Hullo, what +does this mean?" For he suddenly caught sight of the goat springing +from stone to stone low down the stream as if coming to their side of +the rushing water; and with the thought filling his mind that a tame +goat like this must have an owner who was more likely to be an enemy of +strangers than a friend, Pen began searching the rugged slopes on both +sides of the river, but in vain. The goat, which had crossed, was now +coming slowly towards them, appearing to be quite alone, though soon +proving itself to be quite accustomed to the presence of human beings, +for it ended by trotting over the sand and shingle at the river's edge +till it had approached them quite closely, to stand bleating at them, +doubtless imploringly, though no sound was heard. + +This lasted for a few minutes, and then the goat moved away, passing +Punch, and disappearing upward through the dense growth, and apparently +making its way up by the side of the great fall. + +No sooner was it out of sight than a thought struck Pen; and, making a +sign to his companion that meant "I won't be long," he shouldered his +rifle and began to climb upwards in the direction taken by the goat. + +He was beginning to regret now that he had not started sooner, for there +was no sign of the little beast, and he was about to turn when, just to +his right, he noted faint signs of what seemed to be a slightly used +track which was easy to follow, and, stepping out, he observed the trees +were more open, and at the end of a few minutes he found himself level +with the top of the falls, where the river was gliding along in a deep, +glassy sheet before making its plunge over the smooth, worn rocks into a +basin below. + +He had just grasped this when he saw that the faint track bore off to +the right, and caught sight of the goat again moving amongst the trees, +and for the next few minutes he had no difficulty in keeping it in +sight, and, in addition, finding that it was making for what seemed to +be the edge of another stream which issued from a patch of woodland on +its way to the main torrent. + +"I must get him here if I can," thought Pen, for the roar of the falling +waters was subdued into a gentle murmur, and to his surprise he caught +sight of a shed-like building amongst the trees, fenced in by piled-up +pieces of stone evidently taken from the smaller stream which he +approached; and it was plain that this was the spot for which the goat +had been making. + +The young rifleman stopped short, trying to make out whether the place +was inhabited; but he could see no sign save that the goat was making +for the stone fence, on to which the active beast leaped, balanced +itself carefully for a few moments, and then sprang down on the other +side, to be greeted by a burst of bleating that came from apparently two +of its kind within. + +Pen stood screened by the trees for a time, fully expecting to see some +occupant of the hut make his appearance; but the bleating ceased +directly, and, approaching carefully, the young private stood at last by +the rough stone wall, looking down on a scene which fully explained the +reason for the goat's visit. + +She had returned to her kids; and after climbing the wall a very little +search showed the visitor that the goat and her young ones were the sole +occupants of the deserted place. + +It was the rough home of a peasant who had apparently forsaken it upon +the approach of the French soldiery. Everything was of the simplest +kind; but situated as Pen Gray was it presented itself in a palatial +guise, for there was everything that he could wish for at a time like +that. + +As before said, it was a shed-like structure; but there was bed and +fireplace, a pile of wood outside the door, and, above all, a roof to +cover those who sought shelter. + +"Yes, I must bring him here somehow," thought Pen as he caught sight of +a cleanly scrubbed pail and a tin or two hanging upon nails in the wall. +But he saw far more than this, for his senses were sharpened by hunger; +and with a smile of satisfaction he hurried out, noting as he passed +them that the kids, keen of appetite, were satisfying their desire for +food; and, hurrying onwards, he made his way back to where he had left +his companion lying in the dry, sandy patch of shingle; and some hours +of that forenoon were taken up in the painful task of bearing the +wounded lad by slow degrees to where, after much painful effort, they +could both look down upon the nearly hidden shed. + +"How are you now, Punch?" asked Pen, turning his head upwards. + +There was no reply. + +"Why, Punch," cried Pen, "you are not asleep, are you?" + +"Asleep!" said the boy bitterly; and then, in a faint whisper, "set me +down." + +Pen took a step forward to where he could take hold of a stunted +oak-bough whose bark felt soft and strange; and, holding tightly with +one hand, he held his burden with the other while he sank slowly, the +branch bending the while till he was kneeling. Then he slid his load +down amongst the undergrowth and quickly opened his water-bottle and +held it to the boy's lips. + +"Feel faint, lad?" he said. + +Again there was no answer; but Punch swallowed a few mouthfuls. + +"Ah, that's better," he said. "Head's swimming." + +"Well, you shall lie still for a few minutes till you think you can bear +it, and then I want you to get down to that hut." + +Punch looked up at him with misty eyes, wonderingly. + +"Hut!" he said faintly. "What hut?" + +"The one I told you about. You will be able to see it when you are +better. There's a rough bed there where you will be able to lie and +rest till your wound heals." + +"Hut!" + +"Oh, never mind now. Will you have some more water?" + +The boy shook his head. + +"Not going to die, am I?" he said feebly. + +"Die! No!" cried Pen, with his heart sinking. "A chap like you isn't +going to die over a bit of a wound." + +"Don't," said the boy faintly, but with a tone of protest in his words. +"Don't gammon a fellow! I am not going to mind if I am. Our chaps +don't make a fuss about it when their time comes." + +"No," said Pen sharply; "but your time hasn't come yet." + +The boy looked up at him with a peculiar smile. + +"Saying that to comfort a fellow," he almost whispered; "only, I say, +comrade, you did stick to me, and you won't--won't--" + +"Won't what?" said Pen sharply. "Leave you now? Is it likely?" + +"Not a bit yet," said the poor fellow faintly; "but I didn't mean that." + +"Then what did you mean?" cried Pen wonderingly. + +The poor lad made a snatch at his companion's arm, and tried to draw him +down. + +"What is it?" said Pen anxiously now, for he was startled by the look in +the boy's eyes. + +"Want to whisper," came in a broken voice. + +"No; you can't have anything to whisper now," said Pen. "There, let me +give you a little more water." + +The boy shook his head. + +"Want to whisper," he murmured in a harsh, low voice. + +"Well, what is it? But you had better not. Shut your eyes and have a +bit of a nap till you are rested and the faintness has gone. I shall be +rested, too, then, and I can get you down into the hut, where I tell you +there's a bed, and, better still, Punch, a draught of sweet warm milk." + +"Gammon!" said the boy again; and he hung more heavily upon Pen's +arm.--"Want to whisper." + +"Well, what is it?" said Pen, trying hard to master the feeling of +despair that was creeping over him. + +"Them wolves!" whispered the boy. "Don't let them get me, comrade, when +I'm gone." + +"You shut your eyes and go to sleep," cried Pen angrily. + +"No," said the boy, speaking more strongly now. "I aren't a baby, and I +know what I'm saying. You tell me you won't let them have me, and then +I will go to sleep; and then if I don't wake up no more--" + +"What!" cried Pen, speaking with a simulated anger, "you won't be such a +coward as to go and leave me all alone here?" + +The boy started; his eyes brightened a little, and he gazed +half-wonderingly in his companion's face. + +"I--I didn't think of that, comrade," he faltered. "I was thinking I +was going like some of our poor chaps; but I don't want to shirk. +There, I'll try not." + +"Of course you will," said Pen harshly. "Now then, try and have a nap." + +The boy closed his eyes, and in less than a minute he was breathing +steadily and well, but evidently suffering now and then in his sleep, +for the hand that clasped Pen's gave a sudden jerk at intervals. + +Quite an hour, during which the watcher did not stir, till there was a +sharper twitch and the boy's eyes opened, to look wonderingly in his +companion's as if he could not recall where he was. + +"Have a little water now, Punch?" + +"Drop," he said; but the drop proved to be a thirsty draught, and he +spoke quite in his senses now as he put a brief question. + +"Is it far?" he said. + +"To the hut? No. Do you think you can bear me to get you on my back +again?" + +"Yes. Going to. Look sharp!" + +But as soon as the boy felt his companion take hold of his hand after +restopping the water-bottle, Punch whispered, "Stop!" + +"What is it? Would you like to wait a little longer?" + +"No. Give me a bullet out of a cartridge." + +"A bullet? What for?" + +"To bite," said the boy with a grim smile. + +Pen hesitated for a moment in doubt, looking in the boy's smiling eyes +the while. Then, as a flash of recollection of stories he had heard +passed through his mind, he hastily drew a cartridge from his box, broke +the little roll open, scattering the powder and setting the bullet free +before passing it to his companion, who nodded in silence as he seized +the piece of lead between his teeth. Then, nodding again, he raised one +hand, which Pen took, and seizing one of the branches of the gnarled +tree he bent it down till he got it close to his companion, and bade him +hold on with all his might. + +Punch's fingers closed tightly upon the bough, which acted like a spring +and helped to raise its holder sufficiently high for Pen to get him once +more upon his shoulders, which he had freed from straps thrown down +beside his rifle. + +"Try and bear it," he panted, as he heard the low, hissing breath from +the poor fellow's lips, and felt him quiver and wince. "I know it's +bad," he added encouragingly, "but it won't take me long." + +It did not, for in a very few minutes he had reached the rough stone +wall, to which he shifted his burden, stood for a few moments panting, +and then climbed over, took the sufferer in his arms, and staggered into +the waiting shelter, where the next minute Punch was lying insensible +upon the bed. + +"Ha!" ejaculated Pen as he passed the back of his hand across his +streaming forehead. + +This suggested another action, but it was the palm of his hand that he +laid across his companion's brow. + +"All wet!" he muttered. "He can't be very feverish for the perspiration +to come like that." + +Then he started violently, for a shadow crossed the open door, and he +involuntarily threw up one hand to draw his slung rifle from his +shoulder, and then his teeth snapped together. + +There was no rifle there. It was lying with his cartouche-box right +away by the stunted oak, as he mentally called the cork-tree. + +The next minute he was breathing freely, for the deep-toned bleat of the +goat arose, and he looked out, to see that it was answerable for the +shadow. + +"Ah, you will have to pay for this," he muttered, as he started to run +to where his weapon lay, his mind full now of thoughts that in his +efforts over his comrade had been absent. + +He was full of expectation that one or other of the vedettes might have +caught sight of him bearing his load to the hut; and, with the full +determination to get his rifle and hurry back to defend himself and his +companion for as long as the cartridges held out, he started with a run +up the slope, which proved to be only the stagger of one who was utterly +exhausted, and degenerated almost into a crawl. + +He was back at last, to find that Punch had not moved, but seemed to be +sleeping heavily as he lay upon his sound shoulder; and, satisfied by +this, Pen laid his rifle and belts across the foot of the bed and drew a +deep breath. + +"I can't help it," he nearly groaned. "It isn't selfish; but if I don't +have something I can do no more." + +Then, strangely enough, he uttered a mocking laugh as he stepped to a +rough shelf and took a little pail-like vessel with one stave prolonged +into a handle from the place where it had been left clean by the last +occupant of the hut, and as he stepped with it to the open door +something within it rattled. + +He looked down at it in surprise and wonder, and it was some moments +before he grasped the fact that the piece of what resembled blackened +clay was hard, dry cake. + +"Ah!" he half-shouted as he raised it to his lips and tried to bite off +a piece, but only to break off what felt like wood, which refused to +crumble but gradually began to soften. + +Then, smiling grimly, he thrust the cake within his jacket and stepped +out, forgetting his pain and stiffness, to find to his dismay that there +was no sign of the goat. + +"How stupid!" he muttered the next minute. "My head won't go. I can't +think." And, recalling the goat's former visit to the rough shelter, he +hurried to where he had been a witness of its object, and to his great +delight found the animal standing with half-closed eyes nibbling at some +of the plentiful herbage while one of its kids was partaking of its +evening meal. + +Pen advanced cautiously with the little wooden vessel, ready to seize +the animal by one of its horns if it attempted to escape, as it turned +sharply and stared at him in wonder; but it only sniffed as if in +recognition at the little pail, and resumed its browsing. But the kid +was disposed to resent the interruption of the stranger, and some little +force had to be used to thrust it away, returning again and again to +begin to make some pretence of butting at the intruder. + +Pen laughed aloud at the absurdity of his task as he finally got rid of +the little animal, and made his first essay at milking, finding to his +great delight that he was successful, while the goat-mother took it all +as a matter of course, and did not move while her new friend refreshed +himself with a hearty draught of the contents of the little pail; and +then, snatching at a happy thought, drew the hardened cake from his +breast and placed it so that it could soak up the soft warm milk which +flowed into the vessel. + +"Ah!" sighed the young soldier, "who'd have thought that taking the +king's shilling would bring a fellow to this? Now for poor Punch. +Well, we sha'n't starve to-night." + +Once more as he turned from the goat the thought assailed him that one +of the vedettes might be in sight; but all was still and beautiful as he +stepped back slowly, eating with avidity portions of the gradually +softening black-bread, and feeling the while that life and hope and +strength were gradually coming back. + +"Now for poor Punch!" he muttered again; and, entering the rough shelter +once more, he stood looking down upon the wounded boy, who was sleeping +heavily, so soundly that Pen felt that it would be a cruelty to rouse +him. So, partaking sparingly of his novel meal, he placed a part upon a +stool within reach of the rough pallet. + +"Wounded men don't want food," he muttered. "It's Nature's way of +keeping off fever; and I must keep watch again, and give him a little +milk when he wakes. Yes, when he wakes--when he wakes," he muttered, as +he settled himself upon the earthen floor within touch of his sleeping +comrade. "Mustn't close the door," he continued, with a little laugh, +"for there doesn't seem to be one; and, besides, it would make the place +dark. Why, there's a star peeping out over the shoulder of the +mountain, and that soft, low, deep hum is the falling water. Why, that +must be the star I used to see at home in the old days; and, oh, how +beautiful and restful everything seems! But I mustn't go to sleep.--Are +you asleep, Punch?" he whispered softly. "Poor fellow! That's right. +Sleep and Nature will help you with your wound; but I must keep awake. +It would never do for you to rouse up and find me fast. No," he +half-sighed. "Poor lad, you mustn't go yet where so many other poor +fellows have gone. A boy like you! Well! It's the--fortune--fortune-- +of war--and--and--" + +Nature would take no denial. Pen Gray drew one long, deep, restful +breath as if wide-awake, and then slowly and as if grudgingly respired. + +Fast asleep. + + + +CHAPTER SEVEN. + +MORE ABOUT HIM. + +It was bright daylight, and Pen Gray started up in alarm, his mind in a +state of confusion consequent upon the heaviness of his sleep and the +feeling of trouble that something--he knew not what--had happened. + +For a few moments he was divided between the ideas that the enemy had +come to arrest him and that his companion had passed away in his sleep. +But these were only the ragged shadows of the night, for the boy was +still sleeping soundly, the food remained untouched, and, upon +cautiously looking outside, there was nothing to be seen but the +beauties of a sunny morn. + +Pen drew a deep breath as he returned to the hut, troubled with a +sensation of weariness and strain, but still light-hearted and hopeful. + +There was something invigorating in the mountain air even deep down +there in the valley, and he was ready to smile at his position as his +eyes lit upon the little pail. + +"Oh, I say," he said to himself, "it is like temptation placed in one's +way! How horribly hungry I am! Well, no wonder; but I must play fair." + +Taking out his knife, he was about to divide the piece of cake, which +had so swollen up in the milk that there seemed to be a goodly portion +for two; but, setting his teeth hard, he shut the knife with a snap and +pulled himself together. + +"Come," he muttered, "I haven't gone through all this drilling for +months to snatch the first chance to forget it. I will begin the day by +waiting until poor Punch wakes." + +He gave another look at his companion to make sure that he was still +sleeping soundly and was no worse; and then, after glancing at the +priming of his rifle, he stepped out to reconnoitre, keeping cautiously +within shelter of the trees, but not obtaining a glimpse of any of the +vedettes. + +"Looks as if they have gone," he thought, and he stepped to the edge of +another patch of woodland to again sweep the valley-sides as far as was +possible. + +This led him to the edge of the river, where, as soon as he appeared, he +was conscious of the fact that scores of semi-transparent-looking fish +had darted away from close to his feet, to take shelter beneath stones +and the bank higher up the stream, which glided down towards the fall +pure as crystal and sparkling in the sun. + +"Trout!" he exclaimed. "Something to forage for; and then a fire. +Doesn't look like starving." + +Pen took another good look round, but nothing like a vedette or single +sentry was in view; and after a few moments of hesitation he snatched at +the opportunity. + +Stepping back into the shelter of the woods, he hurriedly stripped, +after hanging his rifle from a broken branch, and then dashing out into +the sunshine he leaped at once into the beautiful, clear, sparkling +water, which flashed up at his plunge. Then striking out, he swam with +vigorous strokes right into the depths, and felt that he was being +carried steadily downward towards the fall. + +This was something to make him put forth his strength; and as he struck +out upstream so as to reach the bank again there was something +wondrously invigorating in the cool, crisp water which sent thrills of +strength through his exhausted frame, making the lad laugh aloud as he +fought against the pressure of the water, won, and waded ashore nearly a +hundred yards below where he had plunged in. + +"What a stream!" he exclaimed as he shook the streaming water from his +tense muscles. "I must mind another time. How cold it was! But how +hot the sun feels! Double!" he ejaculated, and he started along the +bank in a military trot, reached the spot again where he had made his +plunge, looked round, indulged in another run in the brilliant sunshine, +and, pretty well half-dried by his efforts, stepped back into the wood +and rapidly resumed his clothes. + +"Why, it has pretty well taken the stiffness out of me," he muttered, +"and I feel ready for anything, only I'm nearly famished. Here, I can't +wait," he added, as he finished dressing, smartening himself up into +soldierly trim, and giving his feet a stamp or two as he resumed his +boots. "Now, how about poor Punch? He can't be worse, for he seemed to +have slept so well. It seems hard, but I must wake him up." + +To the lad's great satisfaction, as he reached the door of the rough +cabin, he found that the wounded boy was just unclosing his eyes to look +at him wonderingly as if unable to make out what it all meant. + +"Gray," he said faintly. + +"Yes. How are you, lad?" + +"I--I don't quite know," was the reply, given in a faint voice.--"Oh, I +recollect now. Yes. There, it stings--my wound." + +"Yes, I'll bathe it and see to it soon," said Pen eagerly; "but you are +no worse." + +"Ain't I? I--I thought I was. I say, look here, Gray; what does this +mean? I can't lift this arm at all. It hurts so." + +"Yes. Stiff with your wound; but it will be better when I have done it +up." + +"Think so?" + +"Yes." + +"But look here." + +"Yes, I am looking." + +"This arm isn't wounded. Look at that." + +"Yes, I see; you lifted it up and it fell down again." + +"Yes. There's no strength in it. It ain't dead yet?" + +"Didn't seem like it," said Pen, smiling cheerily. "You lifted it up." + +"Yes, I know; but it fell back again. And what's the matter with my +voice?" + +"Nothing." + +"Yes, there is," cried the boy peevishly. "It's all gone squeaky again, +like it was before it changed and turned gruff. I say, Gray, am I going +to be very bad, and never get well again?" + +"Not you! What nonsense!" + +"But I am so weak." + +"Well, you have seen plenty of our poor fellows in hospital, haven't +you?" + +"Yes, some of them," said the boy feebly. + +"Well, weren't they weak?" + +"Yes, I forgot all that; but I wasn't so bad as this yesterday. It was +yesterday, wasn't it?" + +"Yes. Don't you remember?" + +"No. How was it?" + +"There, don't you bother your brains about that." + +"But I want to know." + +"And I want you to do all you can to get well." + +"Course you do. 'Tisn't fever, is it?" + +"Fever! No! Yes, you were feverish. Every one is after a wound. Now +then," And he took out and opened his knife. + +"Wound! Wound!" said the boy, watching him. "Whatcher going to do +with your knife? Take your bay'net if you want to finish a fellow off." + +"Well, I don't," said Pen, laughing. + +"'Tain't anything to laugh at, comrade." + +"Yes, it is, when you talk nonsense. Now then, breakfast." + +"Don't gammon," said the poor fellow feebly. "My head isn't all swimmy +now. Beginning to remember. Didn't you carry me down here?" + +"To be sure, and precious heavy you were!" + +"Good chap!" said the boy, sighing. "You always was a trump; but don't +play with a poor fellow. There can't be no breakfast." + +"Oh, can't there? I'll show you; and I want to begin. I say, Punch, +I'm nearly starved." + +"I'm not," said the poor fellow sadly. "I couldn't eat." + +"Oh, well, you have got to, so look sharp, or I shall go mad." + +"Whatcher mean?" + +"I told you I'm starving. I have hardly touched anything for two days +except water." + +"Well, go on then. What is there for breakfast?" + +"Bread." + +"Ugh! Don't! Black dry bread! It makes me feel sick." + +"Bread and milk." + +"Where did you get the milk?" + +"Never you mind," said Pen, plunging his knife into the dark sop which +half-filled the little pail. "Now then, you have got to eat first." + +"No, don't ask me; I can't touch it," and the boy closed his eyes +against the piece of saturated bread that his companion held out to him +on the knife. + +"You must," said Pen; "so look sharp." + +"I can't, I tell you." + +"Well, then, I shall have to starve." + +"No, no; go on." + +"After you." + +It took a good deal of pressure, but at last the truth of the French +saying about its being only the first step that costs was proved, for +after the first mouthful, of which the poor fellow shudderingly partook, +the boy consented to open his mouth again, after holding out until his +amateur surgeon and nurse had consented to share the meal, which proved +refreshing to the patient, who partook of a little; while, bearing in +mind that he could at all events restore the fluid food, Pen ate +ravenously, his spirits rising with every mouthful. + +"It will go hard," he said to himself, "if I can't forage something +else. There are the trout, to begin with. I know I can catch some of +them in the shallows, and that too without rod or line. That is," he +added, "if we are not found out and marched off as prisoners." + +"Whatcher thinking about?" said Punch drowsily. + +"Catching fish, and making a fire to cook them." + +"There's my flint and steel in my satchel, but where's your fish?" + +"In the river." + +"But you can't catch 'em." + +"Oh, can't I, Punch?" + +"Oh yes, I know," piped the boy. "They are trout. I saw some the other +day when we crossed that stream. I saw some run under the stones, and +wanted to creep up and tiddle one, only I couldn't leave the ranks." + +"Ah, well, there are no ranks to leave now, Punch, and we shall have +plenty of time to tiddle the trout, as you call it, for we shall have to +stay here till you get well." + +"I say, don't talk, please. Want to go to sleep." + +"That's right," said Pen cheerfully. "Sleep away, and I won't bathe +your wound till you wake again." + +The boy made no answer, but dropped off at once. + +"That's better," thought Pen, "and while he sleeps I will see whether I +can't get some of the trout." + +He waited until his companion was breathing heavily, and then he seated +himself by the door and began to carefully clean his rifle and +accoutrements, which soldierly task at an end, he stood over the +sleeping boy a few minutes, and then stepped outside the dark hut to +plunge into the sunshine; but, recollecting himself, he stepped in +amongst the trees, and keeping close in their shelter moved from spot to +spot spending nearly half an hour searching every eminence for signs of +danger. + +"The coast seems clear," he said to himself, "and the enemy may have +moved on; but I must be careful. I want to join our fellows, of course; +but if I'm made prisoner it will be the death of poor Punch, for they +are not very careful about prisoners, and--" + +Pen stopped short as he held on to the bough of one of the stunted trees +growing in the rocky bottom and peered out to sweep the side of the +valley where he felt that the mule-track ought to be. + +He started back as if the bullet that had been fired from a musket had +cut the leaves above his head and stood listening to the roll of echoes +which followed the shot. Then there was another, and another, followed +by scores, telling him that a sharp skirmish had begun; and after a +while he could just make out a faint cloud of smoke above the trees, +where the dim vapour was slowly rising. + +"Yes," he said, "that's where I thought the mule-path must be. But what +a height it is up! And what does it mean? Are our fellows coming back +and driving the enemy before them, or is it the other way on?" + +There was no telling; but when, about an hour later, the firing had +grown nearer and then slowly become more and more distant till it died +away, Pen had learned one thing, and that was the necessity for keeping +carefully in hiding, for the enemy must be somewhere near. + +He stepped back into the hut after silence once more reigned in the +false scene of peace, and found that the peppering of the musketry had +had no effect upon the sleeper, who did not stir when he leant over him +and laid his hand upon the poor fellow's forehead, which was cool and +moist. + +"Ha!" sighed Pen, "he's not going to die; but he will be as weak as weak +for a month to come, and I ought to have been with our fellows instead +of hiding here, for I have no business to be doing ambulance work, and +so they would tell me. Ah!" he ejaculated, as he started to the door +again, for from somewhere much farther away there came the deep roll of +a platoon of musketry, which was repeated again and again, but always +more distant, though growing, while still more faintly, into the sounds +of a sharp engagement, till it died quite away. + +"I never thought of that. That first firing I heard must have been the +enemy. I wonder I didn't think so before. I am sure now. There wasn't +a single shot that I could have said was from a rifle. But it is +impossible to say for certain which side is holding the valley. At any +rate our fellows were not there." + + + +CHAPTER EIGHT. + +THE KING'S SHILLING. + +"Ha, ha, ha, ha!" A bright, ringing specimen of a youth's laugh, given +out by one who is healthy, strong, and fairly content, allowing for +drawbacks, with the utterer's position in life. + +"Whatcher laughing at?" followed in the querulous tones of one who was +to a great extent at the opposite pole of life. + +"You, Punch." + +"I don't see nothing to laugh at, sick and weak as I am." + +"Yes, you are weak enough, and don't know the difference as I do." + +"Difference! There ain't no difference. I'm a regular invalid, as they +calls them, and just as bad as some of our poor chaps who go back to +live on the top of a wooden leg all the rest of their lives." + +"Stuff and nonsense, Punch! You are getting better and stronger every +day." + +"I ain't. Look at that arm; it's as thin as a mop-stick." + +"Well, it is thin, certainly; but a chap of your age, growing fast, +generally is thin." + +"Ya! Growing! How can a fellow grow with a hole in his back?" + +"You haven't got a hole in your back. It's healing up fast." + +"'Taint." + +"Yes, it is. You haven't seen it, and I have every day. I say it's +healing beautifully." + +"Ah, you'll say next that I ain't weak." + +"No, I shan't." + +"Well, that's because you are always trying to make me think that I am +better than I am." + +"Well, what of that? I don't want to put you out of heart." + +"No, but you needn't gammon me. I know I ain't as weak as a rat, +because I am ten times weaker. I have got no wind at all; and I do wish +you wouldn't be always wallacking me down to that big waterfall. I'm +always pumped out before I get half-way there, and quite done up before +I get back. What's the good of going there?" + +"Beautiful place, Punchy, and the mountain air seems to come down with +the water and fill you full of strength." + +"Does you perhaps, but it don't do me no good. Beautiful place indeed! +Ugly great hole!" + +"'Tisn't; it's lovely. I don't believe we shall ever see a more +beautiful spot in our lives." + +"It makes me horrible. I feel sometimes as if I could jump in and put +myself out of my misery. Just two steps, and a fellow would be washed +away to nowhere." + +"Why, you have regularly got the grumps to-day, Punch; just, too, when +you were getting better than ever." + +"I ain't, I tell you. I had a look at myself this morning while you +were snoring, and I am as thin as a scarecrow. My poor old mother +wouldn't know me again if ever I got back; and I sha'n't never see our +old place no more." + +"Yes, you will, Punch--grown up into a fine, manly-looking British +rifleman, for you will be too big to blow your bugle then. You might +believe me." + +"Bugle! Yes, I didn't give it a rub yesterday. Just hand it off that +peg." + +Pen reached the bugle from where it hung by its green cord, and the +lines in Punch's young forehead began to fade as he gave the instrument +a touch with his sleeve, and then placed the mouthpiece to his lips, +filled out his sadly pale, hollow cheeks, and looked as if he were going +to blow with all his might, when he was checked by Pen clapping his hand +over the glistening copper bell. + +"Whatcher doing of?" cried the boy angrily. + +"Stopping you. There, you see you are better. You couldn't have +attempted that a while ago." + +"Ya! Think I'm such a silly as to bring the enemy down upon us?" + +"Well, I didn't know." + +"Then you ought to. I should just like to give the call, though, to set +our dear old lads going along the mountain-side there skirmishing and +peppering the frog-eating warmints till they ran for their lives." + +"Hurrah!" shouted Pen. "Who's trying to bring the enemy down upon us +now, when we know there are some of them sneaking about in vedettes as +they hold both ends of the valley. Now you say you are not better if +you dare." + +"Oh, I don't want to fall out," grumbled the invalid. "You think you +know, but you ain't got a wound in your back to feel when a cold wind +comes off the mountains. I think I ought to know best." + +"But you don't, Punch. Those pains will die out in time, and you will +go on growing, and keeping thin perhaps for a bit; but your muscles will +fill out by-and-by, same as mine do in this beautiful air." + +"Needn't be so precious proud of them," said the boy sourly. + +"I'm not. There, have another fish." + +"Sha'n't. I'm sick to death on them. They are only Spanish or +Portuguee trout, and not half so good as roach and dace out of a good +old English pond." + +Pen laughed merrily again. + +"Ah, grin away! I think I ought to know." + +"Yes--better than to grumble when I have broiled the fish so nicely over +the wood embers with sticks I cut for skewers. They were delicious, and +I ate till I felt ashamed." + +"So you ought to be." + +"To enjoy myself so," continued Pen, "while you, with your mouth so out +of taste and no appetite, could hardly eat a bit." + +"Well, who's to have a happetite with a wound like mine? I shall never +get no better till I get a mug of real old English beer." + +"Never mind; you get plenty of milk." + +"Ya! Nasty, sickly stuff! I'll never touch it again." + +"Well then, beautiful sparkling water." + +"Who wants sparkling water? 'Tain't like English. It's so thin and +cold." + +"Come, come; you must own that you are mending fast, Punch." + +"Who wants to be mended," snarled the poor fellow, "and go through life +like my old woman's cracked chayney plate with the rivet in it! I was a +strong lad once, and could beat any drummer in the regiment in a race, +while now I ought to be in horspital." + +"No, you ought not. I'll tell you what you want, Punch." + +"Oh, I know." + +"No, you don't. You want to get just a little stronger, so as you can +walk ten miles in a day." + +"Ten miles! Why, I used to do twenty easy." + +"So you will again, lad; but I mean in a night, for we shall have to lie +up all day and march all night so as to keep clear of the enemy." + +"Then you mean for us to try and get out of this wretched hole?" + +"I mean for us to go on tramp as soon as you are quite strong enough; +and then you will think it's a beautiful valley. Why, Punch, I have +crept about here of a night while you have been asleep, so that I have +got to know the place by heart, and I should like to have the chance of +leading our fellows into places I know where they could hold it against +ten times or twenty times their number of Frenchmen who might try to +drive them out." + +"You have got to know that?" said Punch with a show of animation that +had grown strange to the poor fellow. + +"Yes," cried Pen triumphantly. + +"Well, then, all I have got to say is you waren't playing fair." + +"Of course it wasn't. Seeing you were so weak you couldn't walk." + +"There now, you are laughing at a fellow; but you don't play fair." + +"Don't I? In what way?" + +"Why, you promised while I have been so bad that you would read to me a +bit." + +"And I couldn't, Punch, because we have got nothing to read." + +"And then you promised that you would tell me how it was you come to +take the king's shilling." + +"Well, yes, I did; but you don't want to know that." + +"Yes, I do. I have been wanting to know ever since." + +"Why, boy?" + +"Because it seems so queer that a lad like you should join the ranks." + +"Why queer? You are too young yet, but you will be in the ranks some +day as a full private." + +"Yes, some day; but then, you see, my father was a soldier. Yours +warn't, was he?" + +"No-o," said Pen, frowning and looking straight away before him out of +the hut-door. + +"Well, then, why don't you speak out?" + +"Because I don't feel much disposed. It is rather a tender subject, +Punch." + +"There, I always knew there was something. Look here; you and me's +friends and comrades, ain't we?" + +"I think so, Punch. I have tried to be." + +"So you have. Nobody could have been better. I have lain awake lots of +times and thought about what you did. You haven't minded my saying such +nasty things as I have sometimes?" + +"Not I, Punch. Sick people are often irritable." + +"Yes," said the boy eagerly, "that's it. I have said lots of things to +you that I didn't mean; but it's when my back's been very bad, and it +seemed to spur me on to be spiteful, and I have been very sorry +sometimes, only I was ashamed to tell you. But you haven't done +anything to be ashamed of?" Pen was silent for a few moments. + +"Ashamed? No--yes." + +"Well, you can't have been both," said the boy. "Whatcher mean by +that?" + +"There have been times, Punch, when I have felt ashamed of what I have +done." + +"Why, what have you done? I don't believe it was ever anything bad. +You say what it was. I'll never tell." + +"Enlisted for a soldier." + +"What?" cried the boy. "Why, that ain't nothing to be ashamed of. What +stuff! Why, that's something to be proud of, specially in our Rifles. +In the other regiments we have got out here the lads are proud of being +in scarlet. Let 'em. But I know better. There isn't one of them who +wouldn't be proud to be in our dark-green, and to shoulder a rifle. +Besides, we have got our bit of scarlet on the collar and cuffs, and +that's quite enough. Why, you are laughing at me! You couldn't be +ashamed of being in our regiment. I know what it was--you ran away from +home?" + +"It was no longer home to me, Punch." + +"Why, didn't you live there?" + +"Yes; but it didn't seem like home any longer. It was like this, Punch. +My father and mother had died." + +"Oh," said the boy softly, "that's bad. Very good uns, waren't they?" + +Pen bowed his head. + +"Then it waren't your home any longer?" + +"Yes and no, Punch," said the lad gravely. + +"There you go again! Don't aggravate a fellow when he is sick and weak. +I ain't a scholar like you, and when you puts it into me with your `yes +and no' it makes my head ache. It can't be yes and no too." + +"Well, Punch," said Pen, smiling, "it was mine by rights, but I was +under age." + +"What's under age?" + +"Not twenty-one." + +"Of course not. You told me months ago that you was only eighteen. +Anybody could see that, because you ain't got no whiskers. But what has +that got to do with it?" + +"Well, I don't see why I should tell you all this, Punch, for it's all +about law." + +"But I want to know," said the boy, "because it's all about you." + +"Well, it's like this: my father left my uncle to be executor and my +trustee." + +"Oh, I say, whatcher talking about? You said your father was a good un, +didn't you?" + +"I did." + +"Well, then, he couldn't have left your uncle to be your executioner +when you hadn't done nothing." + +"Executor, Punch," said the lad, laughing. + +"Well, that's what I said, didn't I?" + +"No; that's a very different thing. An executor is one who executes." + +"Well, I know that. Hangs people who ain't soldiers, and shoots them as +is. Court-martial, you know." + +"Punch, you are getting in a muddle." + +"Glad of it," said the boy, "for I thought it was, and I don't like to +hear you talk like that." + +"Then let's put it right. An executor is one who executes the commands +of a person who is dead." + +"Oh, I see," said the boy. "Dead without being executed." + +"Look here, Punch," said Pen, laughing, "you had better be still and +listen, and I will try and make it plain to you. My uncle was my +father's executor, who had to see that the property he left was +rightfully distributed." + +"Oh, I see," said Punch. + +"And my father made him my trustee, to take charge of the money that was +to be mine when I became twenty-one." + +"All right; go on. I am getting it now." + +"Then he had to see to my education, and advise me till I grew up." + +"Well, that was all right, only if I had been your old man, seeing what +a chap you are, I shouldn't have called in no uncle. I should have +said, `Young Penton Gray has got his head screwed on proper, and he will +do what's right.' I suppose, then, your uncle didn't." + +"I thought not, Punch." + +"Then, of course, he didn't. What did he do, then?" + +"Made me leave school," said Pen. + +"Oh, well, that don't sound very bad. Made you leave school? Well, I +never was at school but once, but I'd have given anything to be made to +come away." + +"Ah, perhaps you would, Punch. But then there are schools and schools." + +"Well, I know that," said the boy irritably; "but don't tease a fellow, +it makes me so wild now I'm all weak like." + +"Well, then, let's say no more about it." + +"What! Leave off telling of me?" + +"Yes, while you are irritable." + +"I ain't irritable; not a bit. It's only that I want to know." + +"Very well, then, Punch; I will cut it short." + +"No, you don't, so come now! You promised to tell me all about it, so +play fair." + +"Very well, then, you must listen patiently." + +"That's what I'm a-doing of, only you will keep talking in riddles like +about your executioners and trustees. I want you to tell me just in +plain English." + +"Very well, then, Punch. I was at a military school, and I didn't want +to be fetched away." + +"Oh, I see," cried the boy. "You mean one of them big schools where +they makes young officers?" + +"Yes." + +"Like Woolwich and Addiscombe?" + +"Yes." + +"You were going to be a soldier, then--I mean, an officer?" + +"An officer is a soldier, Punch." + +"Of course he is. Oh, well, I don't wonder you didn't want to be +fetched away. Learning to be an officer, eh? That's fine. Didn't your +uncle want you to be a soldier, then?" + +"No. He wanted me to go as a private pupil with a lawyer." + +"What, and get to be a lawyer?" cried the boy excitedly. "Oh, I say, +you weren't going to stand that?" + +"No, Punch. Perhaps I should have obeyed him, only I knew that it had +always been my father's wish that I should go into the army, and he had +left the money for my education and to buy a commission when I left the +military school." + +"Here, I know," cried the boy excitedly; "you needn't tell me no more. +I heard a story once about a wicked uncle. I know--your one bought the +commission and kept it for himself." + +"No, Punch; that wouldn't work out right. When I begged him to let me +stay at the military school he mocked at me, and laughed, and said that +my poor father must have been mad to think of throwing away money like +that; and over and over again he insisted that I should go on with my +studies of the law, and give up all notion of wearing a red coat, for he +could see that that was all I thought about." + +"Well?" said the boy. + +"Well, Punch?" + +"And then you punched his head, and ran away from home." + +"No, I did not." + +"Then you ought to have done. I would if anybody said my poor father +was mad; and, besides, your uncle must have been a bad un to want to +make you a lawyer. I suppose he was a lawyer too." + +"Yes." + +"There, if I didn't think so! But he must have been a bad un. Said you +wanted to be a soldier so as to wear the uniform? Well, if you did want +to, that's only nat'ral. A soldier's always proud of his uniform. I +heard our colonel say that it was the king's livery and something to be +proud on. I am proud of mine, even if it has got a bit raggy-taggy with +sleeping out in it in all sorts of weather, and rooshing through bushes +and mud, and crossing streams. But soldiers don't think of that sort of +thing, and we shall all have new things served out by-and-by. Well, go +on." + +"Oh, that's about all, Punch." + +"You get on. I know better. Tain't half all. I want you to come to +the cutting off and taking the shilling." + +"Oh, you want to hear that?" + +"Why, of course I do. Why, it's all the juicy part. Don't hang fire. +Let's have it with a rush now. Fix bayonets, and at them!" + +"Why, Punch," said Pen, laughing, "don't you tell me again that you are +not getting better!" + +"I waren't going to now. This warms a fellow up a bit. I say, your +uncle is a bad un, and no mistake. There, forward!" + +"But I have nearly told all, Punch. Life got so miserable at home, and +I was so sick of the law, that I led such a life with my uncle through +begging him to let me go back to the school, that he, one day--" + +"Well, whatcher stopping for?" cried the boy, whose cheeks were flushed +and eyes sparkling with excitement. + +"I don't like talking about it," replied Pen. "I suppose I was wrong, +for my father had left all the management of my affairs in his +brother-in-law's hands." + +"Why, you said your uncle's hands just now!" + +"Yes, Punch; in my mother's brother's hands, so he was my uncle." + +"Well, go on." + +"And I had been begging him to alter his plans." + +"Yes, and let you go back to the school?" + +"And I suppose he was tired out with what he called my obstinacy, and he +told me that if ever I dared to mention the army again he would give me +a sound flogging." + +"And you up and said you would like to catch him at it?" cried Punch +excitedly. "No, Punch; but I lost my temper." + +"Enough to make you! Then you knocked him down?" + +"No, Punch, but I told him he was forgetting the commands my father had +given him, and that I would never go to the lawyer's office again." + +"Well, and what then?" + +"Then, Punch? Oh, I don't like to talk about it. It makes me feel hot +all over even to think." + +"Of course it does. It makes me hot too; but then, you see, I'm weak. +But do go on. What happened then?" + +"He knocked me down," said the lad hoarsely. + +"Oh!" cried the boy, trying to spring up from his rough couch, but +sinking back with the great beads of perspiration standing upon his +brown forehead. "Don't you tell me you stood that!" + +"No, Punch; I couldn't. That night I went right away from home, just as +I stood, made my way to London, and the next day I went to King Street, +Westminster, and saw where the recruiting sergeants were marching up and +down." + +"I know," cried the boy, "with their canes under their arms and their +colours flying." + +"Yes, Punch, and I picked out the one in the new regiment, the --th +Rifles." + +"Yes," cried Punch, "the Rifle green with the red collars and cuffs." + +Pen, half-excited by his recollections, half-amused at the boy's intense +interest, nodded again. + +"And took the king's shilling," cried Punch; "and I know, but I want you +to tell me--you joined ours just to show that uncle that you wanted to +serve the king, and not for the sake of the scarlet coat." + +"Yes, Punch, that was why; and that's all." + + + +CHAPTER NINE. + +HOW TO TREAT AN ENEMY. + +"Well, but is that all?" said Punch. + +"Yes, and now you are tired and had better have a nap, and by the time +you wake I will have some more milk for you." + +"Bother the old milk! I'm sick of it; and I don't want to go to sleep. +I feel sometimes as if I had nearly slept my head off. A fellow can't +be always sleeping. Now, look here; I tell you what you have got to do +some day. You must serve that uncle of yours out." + +"Let him rest. You are tired and weak." + +"No, I ain't. All that about you has done me good. I did not know that +you had had such a lot of trouble, sir." + +"Ah, what's that, Punch!" cried Pen sharply. "Don't you say `sir' to me +again!" + +"Shall if I like. Ain't you a gentleman?" + +"No, sir. Only Private Penton Gray, of the --th Rifles." + +"Well, you are a-saying `sir' to me." + +"Yes, but I don't mean it as you do. While I am in the regiment we are +equals." + +"Oh yes, I like that!" said the boy with a faint laugh. "Wish we was. +Only Private Penton Gray of the --th! Well, ain't that being a +gentleman? Don't our chaps all carry rifles? They are not like the +line regiments with their common Brown Besses. Sharpshooters, that's +what we are. But they didn't shoot sharp enough the other day, or else +we shouldn't be here. I have been thinking when I have been lying +half-asleep that there were so many Frenchies that they got our lads +between two fires and shot 'em all down." + +"I hope not, Punch. What makes you think that?" + +"Because if they had been all right they would have been after us before +now to cut us out, and--and--I say, my head's beginning to swim again." + +"Exactly, you are tired out and must go to sleep again." + +"But I tell you I don't--" + +The poor boy stopped short, to gaze appealingly in his companion's eyes +as if asking for help, and the help Pen gave was to lay his hand gently +on his eyelids and keep it there till he felt that the sufferer had sunk +into a deep sleep. + +The next day the poor fellow had quite a serious relapse, and lay +looking so feeble that once more Pen in his alarm stood watching and +blaming himself for rousing the boy into such a state of excitement that +he seemed to have caused him serious harm. + +But just as Punch seemed at the worst he brightened up again. + +"Look here," he said, "I ain't bad. I know what it is." + +"So do I," replied Pen. "You have been trying your strength too much." + +"Wrong!" cried the boy faintly. "It was you give me too much to eat. +You ought to have treated me like a doctor would, or as if I was a +prisoner, and given me dry bread." + +"Ah!" sighed Pen. "But where was the bread to come from?" + +"Jusso," said Punch, with a faint little laugh; "and you can't make +bread without flour, can you? But don't you think I'm going to die, +because I am ever so much better to-day, and shall be all right soon. +Now, go on talking to me again about your uncle." + +"No," said Pen, "you have heard too much of my troubles already." + +"Oh no, I ain't. I want to hear you talk about it." + +"Then you will have to wait, Punch." + +"All right, then. I shall lie and think till my head begins to go round +and round, and I shall go on thinking about myself till I get all +miserable and go backwards. You don't want that, do you?" + +"You know I don't." + +"Very well, then, let's have some more uncle. It's like doctor's stuff +to me. I've been thinking that you might wait a bit, and then go and +see that lawyer chap and punch his head, only that would be such a +common sort of way. It would be all right if it was me, but it wouldn't +do for you. This would be better. I have thought it out." + +"Yes, you think too much, Punch," said Pen, laying his hand upon his +companion's forehead. + +"I wish you wouldn't do that," cried the boy pettishly. "It's nice and +cool now." + +"Yes, it is better now. That last sleep did you good." + +"Not it, for I was thinking all the time." + +"Nonsense! You were fast asleep." + +"Yesterday," said the boy; "but I was only shamming to-day, so that I +could think, and I have been thinking that this would do. You must wait +till we have whopped the French and gone back to England, and got our +new uniforms served out, and burnt all our rags. Then we must go and +see your uncle, and--" + +"That'll do, Punch. I want to see to your wound now." + +"What for? It's going on all right. Here, whatcher doing of? You +ain't going to cut up that other sleeve of your shirt, are you?" + +"Yes; it is quite time that you had a fresh bandage." + +"Ah, that's because you keep getting it into your head that I'm worse +and that I'm going to die; and it's all wrong, for I am going to be all +right. The Frenchies thought they'd done for me; but I won't die, out +of spite. I am going to get strong again, and as soon as the colonel +lets me carry a rifle I will let some of them have it, and--Oh, very +well; if you must do it, I suppose I must lie still; only get it over. +But--ya! I don't mean to die. What's the good of it, when there's so +much for us to do in walloping the French? But when we do get back to +the regiment you see how I will stick up for you, and what a lot I will +make the chaps think of you!" + +"Will you keep your tongue quiet, Punch?" + +"No, I sha'n't," said the boy with a mocking laugh. "There, you needn't +tie that so tight so as to make it hurt me, because I shall go on +talking all the same--worse. You always begin to shy and kick out like +one of those old mules when I begin talking to you like this. You hates +to hear the truth. I shall tell the chaps every blessed thing." + +But, all the same, Punch lay perfectly still now until the dressing of +his wound was at an end; and then very faintly, almost in a whisper, he +said, "Yes; our chaps never knew what a good chap--" + +"Ah! Asleep again!" said Pen, with a sigh of relief. "There must be +slight delirium, and I suppose I shall be doing no good by trying to +stop him. Poor fellow! He doesn't know how he hurts me when he goes +wandering on like this. I wish I could think out some way of getting a +change of food. Plenty of milk, plenty of fish. I have been as far as +I dared in every direction, but there isn't a trace of a cottage. I +don't want much--only one of those black-bread cakes now and then. Any +one would have thought that the people in a country like this would have +kept plenty of fowls. Perhaps they do where there are any cottages. +Ah, there's no shamming now. He's fast enough asleep, and perhaps when +he awakes he will be more himself." + +But poor Punch's sleep only lasted about half an hour, and then he woke +up with his eyes glittering and with a strangely eager look in his +countenance, as he stretched out the one hand that he could use. + +"Yes," he said, "that's it. I know what you will have to do. Go to +that uncle of yours--" + +"Punch, lad," cried Pen, laying his hand softly upon the one that had +closed upon his wrist, "don't talk now." + +"I won't much, only it stops my head from going round. I just want to +say--" + +"Yes, I know; but I have been watching a deal while you slept." + +"What for?" cried the boy. + +"To make sure that the enemy did not surprise us." + +"Ah, you are a good chap," said the boy, pressing his wrist. + +"And I am very tired, and when you talk my head begins to go round too." + +"Does it? Well, then, I won't say much; only I have got this into my +head, and something seems to make me tell you." + +"Leave it till to-morrow morning, then." + +"No; it must come now, for fear I should forget it. What you have to do +is to go to your uncle like an officer and a gentleman--" + +"Punch, Punch!" + +"All right; I have just done. Pistols like an officer--same as they +uses when they fights duels. Then you walks straight up to him, with +your head in the air, and you says to him, `You don't desarve it, sir, +but I won't take any dirty advantage of you; so there's the pistols,' +you says. `Which will you choose? For we are going to settle this +little affair.' Then I'll tell you how it is. Old Pat Reilly--who was +a corporal once, before he was put back into the ranks--I heerd him +telling our chaps over their pipes how he went with the doctor of the +regiment he was in to carry his tools to mend the one of them who was +hurt. He called it--he was an Irishman, you know--a jool; and he said +when you fight a jool, and marches so many paces, and somebody--not the +doctor, but what they calls the second--only I think Pat made a mistake, +because there can't be two seconds; one of them must be a first or a +third--" + +"There, Punch, tell me the rest to-morrow." + +"No," said the boy obstinately; but his voice was growing weaker. "I +have just done, and I shall be better then, for what I wanted to say +will have left off worrying me. Let's see what it was. Oh, I know. +You stands opposite to your uncle, turns sideways, raises your pistol, +takes a good aim at him, and shoots him dead. Now then, what do you say +to that?" + +"That I don't want to shoot him dead, Punch." + +"You don't?" + +"No." + +"Why, isn't he your enemy?" + +"I don't know." + +"Then I suppose that won't do." + +"I'm afraid not, Punch." + +"Then you must wait a little longer till you get promoted for bravery in +the field. You will be Captain Gray then, and then you can go to him, +and look him full in the face, and smile at him as if you felt that he +was no better than a worm, and ask him what he thinks of that." + +"What! Of my captain's uniform, Punch?" + +"No, I mean you smiling down at him as if he wasn't worth your notice." + +"Ah, that sounds better, Punch." + +"Then, you think that will do?" + +"Yes." + +"Then, now I will go to sleep." + +"Ah, and get better, Punch." + +"Oh yes, I am going to get better now." + +With a sigh of satisfaction, the boy closed his eyes, utterly exhausted, +and lay breathing steadily and well, while Pen stood leaning over him +waiting till he felt sure that the boy was asleep; and then, as he laid +his hand lightly upon his patient's brow, a sense of hopefulness came +over him on feeling that he was cool and calm. + +"There are moments," he thought to himself, "when it seems as if I ought +to give up as prisoners, for it is impossible to go on like this. Poor +fellow, he wants suitable food, and think how I will I don't know what I +could do to get him better food. I should be to blame if I stand by and +see him die for want of proper nourishment." And it seemed to him that +his depressing thoughts had affected his eyes, for the cabin had grown +dull and gloomy, and his despair became more deep. + +"Oh, it's no use to give way," he muttered. "There must be food of some +kind to be found if I knew where to forage for it. Why not kill one of +the kids?" + +He stopped short in his planning and took a step forward, to pass round +the rough heather pallet, thus bringing him out of the shadow into the +light and face to face with a girl of about seventeen or eighteen, who +was resting one hand upon the doorpost and peering in at the occupant of +the rough bed, but who now uttered a faint cry and turned to run. + + + +CHAPTER TEN. + +TALKING IN HIS SLEEP. + +"No, no! Pray, pray, stop!" cried Pen, dashing out after his strange +visitor, who was making for the edge of the nearest patch of wood. + +The imploring tone of his words had its effect, though the tongue was +foreign that fell upon the girl's ears, and she stopped slowly, to look +back at him; and, then as it seemed to dawn upon her what her pursuer +was, she slowly raised her hands imploringly towards him, the gesture +seeming to speak of itself, and say, "Don't hurt me! I am only a +helpless girl." + +Then she looked up at him in wonder, for Pen raised his in turn, as he +exclaimed, "Don't run away. I want your help." + +The girl shook her head. + +"_Ingles_." + +"_Si, si, Ingles, Ingles_. Don't go. I won't hurt you." + +"_Si, si, Ingles_," said the girl with some animation now. + +"Ah, she understands that!" thought Pen; and then aloud, "Help! +Wounded!" and he pointed at the open door. + +The girl looked at him, then at the door, and then shook her head. + +"Can you understand French?" cried Pen eagerly; and the girl shook her +head again. + +"How stupid to ask like that!" muttered Pen; and then aloud, "Help! +Wounded." + +The girl shook her head once more, and then started and struggled +slightly as Pen caught her by the arm. + +"Don't fight," he cried. "Help! help!" And he gesticulated towards the +hut as he pointed through the door at the dimly seen bed, while the girl +held back at arm's-length, gazing at him wildly, until a happy thought +struck him, for he recalled the words that he had more than once heard +used by the villagers while he and his fellows were foraging. + +"_El pano_," he cried; "_el pano_--bread, bread!" And he pointed to the +dimly seen boy and then to his own mouth. + +"_Si, el pano_!" cried the girl, ceasing her faint struggle. + +"_Si, si_!" cried Pen again, and he joined his hands together for a +moment before slowly beckoning their visitor to follow him into the +cottage. + +He stepped in, and then turned to look back, but only to find that the +girl still held aloof, and then turned to look round again as if in +search of help. As she once more glanced in his direction with eyes +that were full of doubt, Pen walked round to the back of the rough +pallet, placing the bed between them, and then beckoned to the girl to +come nearer as he pointed downward at his sleeping patient. + +Their visitor still held aloof, till Pen raised his hands towards her, +joining them imploringly, and his heart leaped with satisfaction as she +began slowly and cautiously to approach. + +And now for his part he sank upon his knees, and as she watched him, +looking ready to dart away at any moment, he placed one finger upon his +lips and raised his left hand as if to ask for silence, while he uttered +softly the one word, "Hush!" + +To his great satisfaction the girl now approached till her shadow fell +across the bed, and, supporting herself by one hand, she peered in. + +"I'd give something if I could speak Spanish now," thought Pen. "What +can I do to make her understand that he is wounded? She ought to be +able to see. Ah, I know!" + +He pointed quickly to his rifle, which was leaning against the bed, and +then downward at where the last-applied bandage displayed one end. +Then, pointing to poor Punch's face, he looked at the girl sadly and +shook his head. + +It was growing quite dusk inside the hut, but Pen was able to see the +girl's face light up as, without a moment's hesitation now she stepped +quickly through the rough portal and bent down so that she could lightly +touch the sleeper's hand, which she took in hers as she bent lower and +then rose slowly, to meet Pen's inquiring look; and as she shook her +head at him sadly he saw that her eyes were filling with tears. + +"Sick," he whispered; "dying. _El pano, el pano_;" and his next +movement was telling though grotesque, for he opened his mouth and made +signs of eating, before pointing downward at the boy. + +"_Si, si_," cried the girl quickly, and, turning to the door again, she +passed through, signing to him to follow, but only to turn back, point +to the little pail that stood upon the floor by the bed's head, and +indicate that she wanted it. + +Pen grasped her meaning, caught up the pail, handed it to her, and quite +simply and naturally sank upon one knee and bent over to lightly kiss +the girl's extended hand, which closed upon the edge of the little +vessel. + +She shrank quickly, and a look of half-dread, half-annoyance came upon +her countenance; but, as Pen drew back, her face smoothed and she nodded +quickly, pointed in the direction of the big fall, made two or three +significant gestures that might or might not have meant, "I'll soon be +back," and then whispered, "_El pano, el pano_;" and ran off over the +rugged stones as swiftly as one of her own mountain goats. + +"Ha!" said Pen softly, as he sighed with satisfaction, "_el pano_ means +bread, plain enough, and she must have understood that. Gone," he +added, as the girl disappeared. "Then there must be another cottage +somewhere in that direction, and I am going to hope that she will come +back soon with something to eat. Who could have thought it?--But +suppose she has gone to join some of the French who are about here, and +comes back with a party to take us prisoners!--Oh, she wouldn't be so +treacherous; she can't look upon us as enemies. We are not fighting +against her people. But I don't know; they must look upon us as made up +of enemies. No, no, she was only frightened, and no wonder, to find us +in her hut, for it must be hers or her people's. Else she wouldn't have +come here. No, a girl like that, a simple country girl, would only +think of helping two poor lads in distress, and she will come back and +bring us some bread." + +As Pen stood watching the place where the girl had disappeared his hand +went involuntarily to his pocket, where he jingled a few _pesetas_ that +he had left; and then, as he canvassed to himself the possibility of the +girl's return before long, he went slowly back into the hut and stood +looking down at the sleeper. + +"Bread and milk," he said softly. "It will be like life to him. But +how queer it seems that I should be worrying myself nearly to death, +giving up my clothes to make him comfortable, playing doctor and nurse, +and nearly starving myself, for a boy for whom I never cared a bit. I +couldn't have done any more for him if he had been my brother. Why, +when I used to hear him speak it jarred upon me, he seemed so coarse and +common. It's human nature, I suppose, and I'm not going to doubt that +poor girl again. She looks common and simple too--a Spanish peasant, I +suppose, who had come to milk and see to the goats after perhaps being +frightened away by the firing. A girl of seventeen or eighteen, I +should say. Well, Spanish girls would be just as tender-hearted as ours +at home. Of course; and she did just the same as one of them would have +done. She looked sorry for poor Punch, and I saw one tear trickle over +and fall down.--There, Punch, boy; we shall be all right now if the +French don't come." + +Pen stepped out in the open and seated himself upon a piece of mossy +rock where he could gaze in the direction where he had last seen his +visitor. But it was all dull and misty now. There was the distant +murmur of the great fall, the sharp, sibilant chirrup of crickets. The +great planet which had seemed like a friend to him before had risen from +behind the distant mountain, and there was a peculiar sweet, warm +perfume in the air that made him feel drowsy and content. + +"Ah," he sighed, "they say that when things are at their worst they +begin to mend. They are mending now, and this valley never felt, never +looked, so beautiful before. How one seems to breathe in the sweet, +soft, dewy night-air! It's lovely. I don't think I ever felt so truly +happy. There, it's of no use for me to watch that patch of wood, for I +could not see our visitor unless she was coming with a lantern; and +perhaps she has had miles to go. Well, watching the spot is doing no +good, and if she's coming she will find her way, and she is more likely +not to lose heart if I'm in the hut, for I might scare her away. Here, +let's go in and see how poor old Punch is getting on! But I never +thought--I never could have imagined--when I was getting up my `lessons +for to-morrow morning' that the time would come when I should be waiting +and watching in a Spanish peasant's hut for some one to come and bring +me in for a wounded comrade a cake of black-bread to keep us both +alive." + +Pen Gray walked softly in the direction of the dimly seen hut through +heathery brush, rustling at every step and seeming to have the effect of +making him walk on tiptoe for fear he should break the silence of the +soft southern evening. + +The lad stopped and listened eagerly, for there was a distant shout that +suggested the hailing of a French soldier who had lost his way in the +forest. Then it was repeated, "Ahoy-y-hoy-hoy-y-y!" and answered from +far away, and it brought up a suggestion of watchful enemies searching +for others in the darkened woods. + +Then came another shout, and an ejaculation of impatience from the +listener. + +"I ought to have known it was an owl. Hallo! What's that? Has she +come back by some other way?" + +For the sound of a voice came to him from inside the rough hut, making +him hurry over the short distance that separated him from the door, +where he stood for a moment or two listening, and he heard distinctly, +"Not me! I mean to make a big fight for it out of spite. Shoot me +down--a boy--for obeying orders! Cowards! How would they like it +themselves?" + +"Why, Punch, lad," said Pen, stepping to the bedside and leaning over +his comrade, "what's the matter? Talking in your sleep?" + +There was no reply, but the muttering voice ceased, and Pen laid his +hand upon the boy's forehead, as he said to himself, "Poor fellow! A +good mess of bread-and-milk would save his life. I wonder how long she +will be!" + + + +CHAPTER ELEVEN. + +PUNCH'S COMMISSARIAT. + +It was far longer than Pen anticipated, for the darkness grew deeper, +the forest sounds fainter and fainter, and there were times when the +watcher went out to listen and returned again and again to find Punch +sleeping more restfully, while the very fact that the boy seemed so calm +appeared to affect his comrade with a strange sense of drowsiness, out +of which he kept on rousing himself, muttering the while with annoyance, +"I can't have her come and find me asleep. It's so stupid. She must be +here soon." + +And after a trot up and down in the direction in which he had seen the +girl pass, and back, he felt better. + +"Sleep is queer," he said to himself. "I felt a few minutes ago as if I +couldn't possibly keep awake." + +He softly touched Punch's temples again, to find them now quite cool, +and seating himself at the foot of the rough pallet he began to think +hopefully of the future, and then with his back propped against the +rough woodwork he stared wonderingly at the glowing orange disc of the +sun, which was peering over the mountains and sending its level rays +right through the open doorway of the hut. + +Pen gazed at the soft, warm glow wonderingly, for everything seemed +strange and incomprehensible. + +There was the sun, and here was he lying back with his shoulders against +the woodwork of the rough bed. But what did it all mean? + +Then came the self-evolved answer, "Why, I have been asleep!" + +Springing from the bed, he just glanced at his softly breathing +companion as he ran out to look once more in the direction taken by the +girl. + +Then he stepped back again in the hope that she might have returned +during the night and brought some bread; but all was still, and not a +sign of anybody having been there. + +Pen's heart sank. + +"Grasping at shadows," he muttered. "Here have I been wasting time over +sleep instead of hunting for food." + +Ignorant for the time being of the cause of the wretched feeling of +depression which now stole over him, and with no friendly voice at hand +to say, "Heart sinking? Despondent? Why, of course you are ready to +think anything is about to occur now that you are literally starving!" +Pen had accepted the first ill thought that had occurred to him, and +this was that his companion had turned worse in the night and was dying. + +Bending over the poor fellow once more, he thrust a hand within the +breast of his shirt, and his spirits sank lower, for there was no +regular throbbing beat in response, for the simple reason that in his +hurry and confusion of intellect he had not felt in the right place. + +"Oh!" he gasped, and his own voice startled him with its husky, +despairing tone, while he bent lower, and it seemed to him that he could +not detect the boy's breath playing upon his cheek. + +"Oh, what have I done?" he panted, and catching at the boy's shoulders +he began to draw him up into a sitting position, with some wild idea +that this would enable him to regain his breath. + +But the next moment he had lowered him back upon the rough pallet, for a +cry Punch uttered proved that he was very much alive. + +"I say," he cried, "whatcher doing of? Don't! You hurt?" + +"Oh, Punch," cried Pen, panting hard now, "how you frightened me!" + +"Why, I never did nothink," cried the boy in an ill-used tone. + +"No, no. Lie still. I only thought you were getting worse. You were +so still, and I could not hear you breathe." + +"But you shouldn't," grumbled the wounded boy surlily, as he screwed +first one shoulder up to his ear and then the other. "Hff! You did +hurt! What did you expect? Think I ought to be snoring? I say, +though, give a fellow some more of that milk, will you? I'm thirsty. +Couldn't you get some bread--not to eat, but to sop in it?" + +"I don't think I could eat anything, but--" The boy stopped short as he +lay passing his tongue over his fever-cracked lips, for the doorway of +the miserable cabin was suddenly darkened, and Pen sprang round to find +himself face to face with his visitor of the previous evening, who stood +before him with the wooden vessel in one hand and a coarse-looking +bread-cake in the other. + +She looked searchingly and suspiciously at Pen for a few moments; and +then, as if seeing no cause for fear, she stepped quickly in, placed the +food she had brought upon the rough shelf, and then bent over Punch and +laid one work-roughened hand upon the boy's forehead, while he stared up +at her wonderingly. + +The girl turned to look round at Pen, and uttered a few words hurriedly +in her Spanish patois. Then, as if recollecting herself, she caught the +bread-cake from where she had placed it, broke a piece off, and put it +in the young rifleman's hand, speaking again quickly, every word being +incomprehensible, though her movements were plain enough as she signed +to him to eat. + +"Yes, I know what you mean," said Pen smiling; "but I want the bread for +him," and he pointed to the wounded boy. + +The peasant-girl showed on the instant that though she could not +understand the stranger's words his signs were clear enough. She broke +off another piece of the bread and took down the little wooden-handled +pail, which was half-full of warm milk. This she held up to Pen, and +signed to him to drink; but he shook his head and pointed to Punch. +This produced a quick, decisive nod of the head, as the girl wrinkled up +her forehead and signed in an insistent way that Pen should drink first. + +He obeyed, and then the girl seated herself upon the bed and began to +sop pieces of the bread and hold them to Punch's lips. + +"Thenkye," he said faintly, and for the first time for many days the boy +showed his white teeth, as he smiled up in their visitor's face. "'Tis +good," he said, and his lips parted to receive another fragment of the +milk-softened bread, which was given in company with a bright girlish +smile and a few more words. + +"I say," said Punch, slowly turning his head from side to side, "I +suppose you can't understand plain English, can you?" + +The girl's voice sounded very pleasant, as she laughingly replied. + +"Ah," said Punch, "and I can't understand plain Spanish. But I know +what you mean, and I will try to eat.--'Tis good. Give us a bit more." + +For the next ten minutes or so the peasant-girl remained seated upon the +bedside attending to the wounded boy, breaking off the softer portions +of the cake, soaking them in the warm milk, and placing them to the +sufferer's lips, and more than once handing portions of the cake to Pen +and giving him the clean wood vessel so that he might drink, while the +sun lit up the interior of the hut and lent a peculiar brightness to the +intently gazing eyes of its three occupants, till the rustic breakfast +came to an end, this being when Punch kept his lips closed, gazed up +straight in the girl's face, and smiled and shook his head. + +"Good!" said the girl in her native tongue, and she nodded and laughed +in satisfaction before playfully making believe to close the boy's eyes, +and ending by keeping her hand across the lids so that he might +understand that he was now to sleep. + +To this Punch responded by taking the girl's hand in his and holding it +for a few moments against his cheek before it was withdrawn, when the +poor wounded lad turned his face away so that no one should see that a +weak tear was stealing down his sun-browned cheek. + +But the girl saw it, and her own eyes were wet as she turned quickly to +Pen, pointed to the bread and milk, signed to him that he should go on +eating, and then hurried out into the bright sunshine, Pen following, to +see that she was making straight for the waterfall. + +The next minute she had disappeared amongst the trees. + +"Well, Punch," cried Pen, as he stepped back to the hut, "feel better +for your breakfast?" + +"Better? Yes, of course. But I say, she didn't see me snivelling, did +she?" + +"Yes, I think so; and it made her snivel too, as you call it. Of course +she was sorry to see you so weak and bad." + +"Ah!" said Punch, after a few moments' silence, during which he had lain +with his eyes shut. + +"What is it? Does your wound hurt you?" + +"No; I forgot all about it. I say, I should like to give that girl +something, because it was real kind of her; but I ain't got nothing but +a sixpence with a hole in it, and she wouldn't care for that, because +it's English." + +"Well, I don't know, Punch. I dare say she would. A good-hearted girl +like that wouldn't look upon its value, but would keep it out of +remembrance of our meeting." + +"Think so?" said Punch eagerly, and with his eyes sparkling. "Oh, don't +I wish I could talk Spanish!" + +"Oh, never mind that," said Pen. "Think about getting well. But, all +the same, I wish I could make her understand so that she could guide me +to where our fellows are." + +"Eh?" cried the boy eagerly. "You ain't a-going to run away and leave +me here, are you?" + +"Is it likely, Punch?" + +"Of course not," cried the boy. "Never you mind what I say. I get +muddly and stupid in my head sometimes, and then I say things I don't +mean." + +"Of course you do; I understand. It's weakness," said Pen cheerily; +"but you are getting better." + +"Think so, comrade? You see, I ain't had no doctor." + +"Yes, you have. Nature's a fine doctor; and if we can keep in hiding +here a few days more, and that girl will keep on bringing us bread and +milk, you will soon be in marching order; so we are not going to be in +the dumps. We will find our fellows somehow." + +"To be sure we will," said Punch cheerfully, as he wrenched himself a +little over, wincing with pain the while. + +"What is it, Punch? Wound hurt you again?" + +"Yes; horrid," said the boy with a sigh. + +"Then, why don't you lie still? You should tell me you wanted to move." + +"Yes, all right; I will next time. It did give me a stinger. Sets a +fellow thinking what some of our poor chaps must feel who get shot down +and lie out in the mountains without a comrade to help them--a comrade +like you. I shall never--" + +"Look here, Punch," interrupted Pen, "I don't like butter." + +"I do," said the boy, with his eyes dancing merrily. "Wished I had had +some with that bread's morning." + +"Now, you know what I mean," cried Pen; "and mind this, if you get +talking like that to me again I will go off and leave you." + +"Ha, ha!" said the boy softly, "don't believe you. All right then, I +won't say any more if you don't like it; but I shall think about it all +the more." + +"There you go again," cried Pen. "What is it you want? What are you +trying to get? You are hurting yourself again." + +"Oh, I was only trying to get at that there sixpence," said the poor +fellow, with a dismal look in his face. "I'm half-afraid it's lost.-- +No, it ain't! I just touched it then." + +"Then don't touch it any more." + +"But I want it." + +"No, you don't, not till that girl comes; and you had better keep it +till we say good-bye." + +"Think so?" said Punch. + +Pen nodded. + +"You think she will come again, then?" + +"She is sure to." + +"Ah," said Punch, rather drowsily now, "I say, how nice it feels for any +one to be kind to you when you are bad." + +"Very," said Pen thoughtfully. "Pain gone off?" + +"Yes; I am all right now. Think she will come back soon?" + +"No, not for hours and hours." + +"Oh, I say, Pen. Think it would be safe for me to go to sleep?" + +"Yes, quite." + +"Then I think I will, for I feel as if I could sleep for a week." + +"Go to sleep then. It's the best thing you can do." + +"Well, I will. Only, promise me one thing: if she comes while I'm +asleep, I--I--want you--promise--promise--wake--" + +"Poor fellow!" said Pen, "he's as weak as weak. But that breakfast has +been like life to him. Well, there's some truth in what they say, that +when things come to the worst they begin to mend." + +A few minutes later, after noting that his poor wounded comrade had sunk +into a deep sleep, Pen stole gently out among the trees, keeping a sharp +lookout for danger as he swept the slopes of the valley in search of +signs of the enemy, for he felt that it was too much to hope for the +dark-green or scarlet of one of their own men. + +But the valley now seemed thoroughly deserted, and a restful feeling +began to steal through the lad's being, for everything looked peaceful +and beautiful, and as if the horrors of war had never visited the land. + +The sun was rising higher, and he was glad to take shelter beneath the +rugged boughs of a gnarled old cork-tree, where he stood listening to +the low, soft, musical murmur of the fall. And as he pictured the +clear, bright, foaming water flashing back the sun's rays, and in +imagination saw the shadowy forms of the trout darting here and there, +he took a step or two outward, but checked himself directly and turned +back to where he could command the door of the hut, for a feeling of +doubt crossed his mind as to what might happen if he went away; and +before long he stole back to the side of the rough pallet, where he +found Punch sleeping heavily, feeling, as he seated himself upon a rough +stool, that he could do nothing more but wait and watch. But it was +with a feeling of hope, for there was something to look forward to in +the coming of the peasant-girl. + +"And that can't be for hours yet," thought the lad; and then his mind +drifted off to England, and the various changes of his life, and the +causes of his being there. And then, as he listened to the soft hum of +insect-life that floated through the open door, his eyelids grew heavy +as if he had caught the drowsy infection from his companion. Weak as he +was from light feeding, he too dropped asleep, so that the long, weary +time that he had been wondering how he should be able to pass was but as +a minute, for the sun was setting when he next unclosed his eyes, to +meet the mirthful gaze of Punch, who burst into a feeble laugh as he +exclaimed, "Why, you have been asleep!" + + + +CHAPTER TWELVE. + +A RUSTLE AMONG THE TREES. + +"Asleep!" cried Pen, starting up and hurrying to the door. + +"Yes; I have been watching ever so long. I woke up hours ago, all in a +fright, thinking that gal had come back; and I seemed to see her come in +at the door and look round, and then go again." + +"Ah, you saw her!" said Pen, looking sharply to right and left as if in +expectation of some trace of her coming. + +"No," said Punch, "it's no use to look. I have done that lots of times. +Hurt my shoulder, too, screwing myself round. She ain't been and left +nothing." + +"But you saw her?" cried Pen. + +"Well," said Punch, in a hesitating way, "I did and I didn't, like as +you may say. She seemed to come; not as I saw her at first--I only felt +her, like. It was the same as I seemed to see things when I have been +off my head a bit." + +"Yes," said Pen, "I understand." + +"Do you?" said Punch dreamily. "Well, I don't. I didn't see her, only +it was like a shadow going out of the door; but I feel as sure as sure +that she came and stood close to me for ever so long, and I think I saw +her back as she went out; and then I quite woke up and lay and listened, +hoping that she would come again." + +"I hope it was only a dream, Punch," said Pen; "but I had no business to +go to sleep like that." + +"Why not? You waren't on sentry-go; and there was nothing to do." + +"I ought to have kept awake." + +"No, you oughtn't. I was jolly glad to see you sleep; and I lay here +and thought of what a lot of times you must have kept awake and watched +over me when I was so bad, and--Here, whatcher going to do?" + +"Going away till you have done talking nonsense." + +"Oh, all right. I won't say no more. You are such a touchy chap. +Don't go away. Give us a drink." + +"Ah, now you are talking sense," said Pen, as he made for the shelf upon +which the little wooden vessel stood. "Here, Punch," he said, "you +mustn't drink this. It has turned sour." + +"Jolly glad of it. Chuck it away and fetch me a good drink of water. +Only, I say, I'd give it a good rinse out first." + +"Yes," said Pen dryly, "I think it would be as well. Now, you don't +think that I should have given you water out of a dirty pail?" + +"Well, how should I know?" said the boy querulously. "But, where are +you going to get it from?" + +"Out of the pool just below the waterfall." + +"Ah, it will be nice and cool from there," said the boy, passing his +tongue over his dry lips. "I was afraid that you might get it from +where the sun had been on it all day." + +"Were you?" said Pen, smiling. + +"Here, I say, don't grin at a fellow like that," said the boy peevishly. +"You do keep catching a chap up so. Oh, I am so thirsty! It's as if I +had been eating charcoal cinders all day; and my wound's all as hot and +dry as if it was being burnt." + +"Yes, I had no business to have been asleep," said Pen. "I'll fetch the +water, and when you have had a good drink I will bathe your wound." + +"Ah, do; there's a good chap. But don't keep on in that aggravating +way, saying you oughtn't to have gone to sleep. I wanted you to go to +sleep; and it wasn't a dream about her coming and looking at me while I +was asleep. I dessay my eyes were shut, but I felt somebody come, and +it only aggravates me for you to say nobody did." + +"Then I won't say it any more, Punch," cried Pen as he hurried out of +the door. "But you dreamt it, all the same," he continued to himself as +he hurried along the track in the direction of the fall, keeping a sharp +lookout the while, partly in search of danger, partly in the faint hope +that he might catch sight of their late compassionate visitor, who might +be on the way bearing a fresh addition to their scanty store. + +But he encountered no sign of either friend or enemy. One minute he was +making his way amongst the gnarled cork-trees, the next he passed out to +where the soft, deep, lulling, musical sound of the fall burst upon his +ears; and soon after he was upon his knees drinking deeply of the fresh, +cool water, before rinsing out and carefully filling the wooden _seau_, +which he was in the act of raising from the pool when he started, for +there was a movement amongst the bushes upon the steep slope on the +other side of the falls. + +Pen's heart beat heavily, for, fugitive as he was, the rustling leaves +suggested an enemy bent upon taking aim at him or trapping him as a +prisoner. + +He turned to make his way back to the hut, and then as the water +splashed from the little wooden pail, he paused. + +"What a coward I am!" he muttered, and, sheltering himself among the +trees, he began to thread his way between them towards where he could +pass among the rocks that filled the bed of the stream below the falls +so as to reach the other side and make sure of the cause of the movement +amidst the low growth. + +"I dare say it was only goats," he said. "Time enough to run when I see +a Frenchman; but I wish I had brought my piece." + +Keeping a sharp lookout for danger, he reached the other side of the +little river, and then climbed up the rocky bank, gained the top in +safety, and once more started violently, for he came suddenly upon a +goat which was browsing amongst the bushes and sprang out in alarm. + +"Yes, I am a coward!" muttered the lad with a forced laugh; and, +stepping back directly, he lowered himself down the bank, recrossed the +stream, filled the little pail, and made his way to where his wounded +companion was waiting for him impatiently. + +"Oh, I say, you have been a time!" grumbled the boy, "and I am so +thirsty." + +"Yes, Punch, I have been a while. I had rilled the pail, when there was +a rustle among the trees, and I thought one of the Frenchies was about +to pounce upon me." + +"And was it?" + +"No, only a goat amongst the bushes; and that made me longer. There, +let me hold you up--no, no, don't try yourself. That's the way. Did it +hurt you much?" + +The boy drank with avidity, and then drew a long breath. + +"Oh, 'tis good!" he said. "Nice and cool too. What, did it hurt? Yes, +tidy; but I ain't going to howl about that. Good job it wasn't a +Frenchy. Don't want them to find us now we are amongst friends. If +that gal will only bring us a bit to eat for about another day I shall +be all right then. Sha'n't I, comrade?" + +"Better, I hope, Punch," said Pen, smiling; "but you won't be all right +for some time yet." + +"Gammon!" cried the boy. "I shall. It only wants plenty of pluck, and +a wound soon gets well. I mean to be fit to go on again precious soon, +and I will. I say, give us a bit more of that cake, and--I say--what's +the Spanish for butter?" + +Pen shook his head. + +"Well, cheese, then? That will do. I want to ask her to bring us some. +It's a good sign, ain't it, when a chap begins to get hungry?" + +"Of course it is. All you have got to do is to lie still, and not worry +your wound by trying to move." + +"Yes, it is all very fine, but you ain't got a wound, and don't know how +hard it is to lie still. I try and try, and I know how it hurts me if I +do move, but I feel as if I must move all the same. I say, I wish we +had got a book! I could keep quiet if you read to me." + +"I wish I had one, Punch, but I must talk to you instead." + +"Well, tell us a story." + +"I can't, Punch." + +"Yes, you can; you did tell me your story about how you came to take the +shilling." + +"Well, yes, I did tell you that." + +"Of course you did, comrade. Well, that's right. Tell us again." + +"Nonsense! You don't want to hear that again." + +"Oh, don't I? But I do. I could listen to that a hundred times over. +It sets me thinking about how I should like to punch somebody's head-- +your somebody, I mean. Tell us all about it again." + +"No, no; don't ask me to do that, Punch," said Pen, wrinkling up his +forehead. + +"Why? It don't hurt your feelings, does it?" + +"Well, yes, it does set me thinking about the past." + +"All right, then; I won't ask you. Here, I know--give us my bugle and +the bit of flannel and stuff out of the haversack. I want to give it a +polish up again." + +"Why, you made it quite bright last time, Punch. It doesn't want +cleaning. You can't be always polishing it." + +"Yes, I can. I want to keep on polishing till I have rubbed out that +bruise in the side. It's coming better already. Give us hold on it." + +Pen hesitated, but seeing how likely it was to quiet his patient's +restlessness, he placed the bright instrument beside him, and with it +the piece of cloth with which he scoured it, and the leather for a +polisher, and then sat thoughtfully down to watch the satisfied look of +intentness in the boy's countenance as he held the copper horn so close +to his face that he could breathe upon it without moving his head, and +then go on polish, polish, slowly, till by degrees the movement of his +hand became more slow, his eyes gradually closed, his head fell +sideways, and he sank to sleep. + +"Poor fellow!" said Pen thoughtfully. "But he can't be worse, or he +wouldn't sleep like that." + +Pen rose carefully so as not to disturb the sleeper, and cautiously +peered outside the hut-door, keeping well out of sight till he had +assured himself that there was no enemy visible upon the slopes of the +valley, and then, taking a few steps under the shelter of the trees, he +scanned the valley again from another point of view, while he listened +intently, trying to catch the sound of the tramping of feet or the voice +of command such as would indicate the nearness of the enemy. + +But all was still, all looked peaceful and beautiful; and after stepping +back to peer through the hut-door again to see that Punch had not +stirred, he passed round to the back, where he could gaze in the +direction of the fall and of the track by which the peasant-girl had +hurried away. + +"I wonder whether she will come back again," thought Pen; and then +feeling sure that they would have another visit from their new friend, +he went slowly back to the hut and seated himself where he could watch +the still-sleeping boy and think; for there was much to dwell upon in +the solitude of that mountain valley--about home, and whether he should +ever get back there and see England again, or be one of the unfortunates +who were shot down and hastily laid beneath a foreign soil; about how +long it would be before Punch was strong enough to tramp slowly by his +side in search of their own corps or of some other regiment where they +would be welcome enough until they could join their own. + +These were not inspiriting thoughts, and he knew it must be weeks before +the poor fellow's wound would be sufficiently healed. Then other mental +suggestions came to worry him as to whether he was pursuing the right +course; as a companion he felt that he was, but as a soldier he was in +doubt about the way in which his conduct would be looked upon by his +superiors. + +"Can't help it," he muttered. "I didn't want to skulk. I couldn't +leave the poor fellow alone--perhaps to the wolves." + +The day went by very slowly. It was hot, and the air felt full of +drowsiness, and the more Pen forced himself to be wakeful the more the +silence seemed to press him down like a weight of sleep to which he was +forced to yield from time to time, only to start awake again with a +guilty look at his companion, followed by a feeling of relief on finding +that Punch's eyes were still closed and not gazing at him mockingly. + +Slow as it was, the evening began to approach at last, and with it the +intense longing for the change that would be afforded by the sight of +their visitor. + +But the time glided on, and with it came doubts which were growing into +feelings of surety which were clinched by a sudden movement on the part +of the wounded boy, whose long afternoon-sleep was brought to an end +with an impatient ejaculation. + +"There! I knew how it would be," he said. "She won't come now." + +"Never mind, Punch," said Pen, trying to speak cheerily. "There's a +little more bread, and I will go now and see if I can find the goat, and +try and get some milk." + +"Not you," said the boy peevishly. "She will know you are a stranger, +and won't let you try again. I know what them she-billy goats are. I +have watched them over and over again. Leave the bread alone, and let's +go to sleep. We shall want it for breakfast, and water will do. I mean +to have one good long snooze ready for to-morrow, and then I am going to +get up and march." + +"Nonsense, Punch," cried Pen. "You can't." + +"Can't I?" said the boy mockingly. "I must, and, besides, British +soldiers don't know such a thing as can't." + +"Ah!" cried Pen excitedly, as he started up and made for the door, for +there was the rustling sound of feet amongst the bushes; and directly +after, hot and panting with exertion, the peasant-girl appeared at the +opening that was growing dim in the failing light. + + + +CHAPTER THIRTEEN. + +"LOOK OUT, COMRADE!" + +"Hooray!" cried Punch, wrenching his head round and stretching one hand +towards their visitor, who stepped in, put the basket she carried upon +the bed, and placed her hand upon her side, breathing hard as if she +were in pain. + +"Why, you have been running," cried Punch, looking at her reproachfully. +"It was all right on you, and you are a good little lass to come, but +you shouldn't have run so fast. 'Tain't good." + +As the girl began to recover her breath she showed her white teeth and +nodded merrily at the wounded boy; and then, as if she had grasped his +meaning, she turned to Pen, caught up the basket, and began rapidly to +take out its contents, which consisted first of bunches of grapes, a few +oranges, and from beneath them a piece of thin cheese and another cake, +which lay at the bottom in company with a rough-looking drinking-mug. + +These were all arranged upon the bed close beside Punch, while the girl, +as she emptied her basket, kept on talking to Pen in a hurried way, +which he took to mean as an apology for her present being so common and +simple. + +Upon this base Pen made what he considered a suitable reply, thanking +the girl warmly for her compassion and kindness to two unfortunate +strangers. + +"I wish I could make you understand," he said; "but we are both most +grateful and we shall never forget it, and--What's the matter?" + +For all at once, as the girl was listening eagerly to his words and +trying to understand them, nodding smilingly at him the while, a sudden +change came over her countenance as she gazed fixedly past the young +soldier at the little square opening in the hut-wall behind him which +served as a window, and then turned to snatch her basket from the bed. + +"What is it?" cried Pen. + +"Look out, comrade--the window behind," said Punch. + +Pen turned on the instant, but the dim window gave no enlightenment, and +he looked back now at the girl, who was about to pass through the door, +but darted back again to run round the foot of the bed, so as to place +it between her and the swarthy-looking Spanish peasant-lad who suddenly +appeared to block the doorway, a fierce look of savage triumph in his +eyes, as he planted his hands upon his hips and burst out into an angry +tirade which made the girl shrink back against the wall. + +Not a word was intelligible to the lookers-on, but all the same the +scene told its own tale. Punch's lips parted, his face turned white, +and he lay back helpless, with his fingers clenched, while Pen's chest +began to heave and he stood there irresolute, breathing hard as if he +had been running, knowing well as he did what the young Spaniard's words +must mean. + +What followed passed very quickly, for the young Spaniard stepped +quickly into the hut, thrust Pen aside, stepped round to the foot of the +bed, and caught the shrinking girl savagely by the wrist. + +She shrank from him, but he uttered what sounded more like a snarl than +words, and began to drag her back round the foot of the bed towards the +door. + +Pen felt as if something were burning in his chest, and he breathed +harder, for there was a twofold struggle taking place therein between +the desire to interfere and the feeling of prudence that told him he had +no right to meddle under the circumstances in which he was placed. + +Prudence meant well, and there was something very frank and brave in her +suggestions; but she had the worst of it, for the girl began to resist +and retort upon her assailant angrily, her eyes flashing as she +struggled bravely to drag her wrist away; but she was almost helpless +against the strong muscles of the man, and the next moment she turned +upon Pen an appealing look, as she uttered one word which could only +mean "Help!" + +Pen took that to be the meaning, and the hot feeling in his young +English breast burst, metaphorically, into flame. + +Springing at the young Spaniard, he literally wrested the girl from his +grasp; and as she sprang now to catch at Punch's extended hand, Pen +closed with her assailant, there was a brief struggle, and the Spaniard +was driven here and there for a few moments before he caught his heel +against the rough sill at the bottom of the doorway and went down +heavily outside, but only to spring up again with his teeth bared like +those of some wild beast as he sprang at Pen. + +A piercing shriek came from the girl's lips, and she tried to free +herself from Punch's detaining hand; but the boy held fast, checking the +girl in her brave effort to throw herself between the contending pair, +while Punch uttered the warning cry, "Look out! Mind, comrade! Knife! +Knife!" + +The next instant there was a dull thud, and the Spaniard fell heavily in +the doorway, while Pen stood breathing hard, shaking his now open hand, +which was rapidly growing discoloured. + +"Has he cut you, comrade?" cried Punch in a husky voice. + +"No. All right!" panted Pen with a half-laugh. "It's only the skin +off--his teeth. I hit first," But he muttered to himself, "Cowardly +brute! It was very near.--No, no, my girl," he said now, aloud, as the +girl stripped a little handkerchief from her neck and came up to him +timidly, as if to bind up his bleeding knuckles. "I will go down to the +stream. That will soon stop;" and he brushed past her, to again face +the Spaniard, who was approaching him cautiously now, knife in hand, +apparently about to spring. + +"Oh, that's it, is it?" said Pen sternly, and still facing the Spaniard +he took a couple of steps backward towards the wall of the hut. + +His assailant did not read his intention, and uttered a snarl of triumph +as he continued his cautious tactics and went on advancing, swinging +himself from side to side as if about to spring; and a dull gleam of +light flashed from the knife he held in his hand. + +But the hand Pen had thrust out behind him had not been idle; and Punch, +who lay helplessly upon the bed, uttered a sigh of satisfaction, for +with one quick movement Pen threw forward his right again to where it +came closely in contact with his left, which joined on in throwing +forward horizontally the rifle Pen had caught from where it stood in the +corner of the hut, the muzzle delivering a dull blow in the Spaniard's +chest. There was a sharp _click, click_, and Pen thundered out, "Drop +that knife and run, before it's--fire!" + +The man could not understand a word of English, but he plainly +comprehended the young soldier's meaning, for his right hand +relinquished its grasp, the knife fell with a dull sound upon the +earthen floor, and its owner turned and dashed away, while the girl +stood with her hands clasped as she uttered a low sigh full of relief, +and then sank down in a heap upon the floor, sobbing as if her heart +would break. + +"One for him, comrade," cried Punch hoarsely. "How would it be to spend +a cartridge over his head? Make him run the faster." + +"No need, Punch. This is a bad bit of luck." + +"Bad luck!" said Punch. "I call it fine. Only I couldn't come and +help. Yes, fine! Teach him what British soldier means. Oh, can't you +say something to tell that poor girl not to cry like that? Say, old +man," said the boy, dropping into a whisper, "didn't see it before. +Why, he must be her chap!" + + + +CHAPTER FOURTEEN. + +PUNCH WILL TALK. + +"Yes, I suppose you are right, Punch," said Pen, frowning. +"Thick-headed idiot. I have quite taken the skin off my knuckles. Poor +girl," he continued, "she has been cruelly punished for doing a womanly +action." + +"Yes; but he's got it too, and serve him right. Oh, didn't I want to +help! But, my word, he will never forget what a British fist is. Yours +will soon be all right. Oh, I wish she wouldn't go on crying like that! +Do say something to her and tell her we are very sorry she got into a +scrape." + +"No, you say something," said Pen quietly. But there was no need, for +the girl suddenly sprang up, hurriedly dashing away her tears, her eyes +flashing as if she were ashamed of being seen crying; and, looking +sharply from one to the other, she frowned, stamped her little foot upon +the earthen floor, and pointed through the open door. + +"_Juan malo_!" she cried, and, springing to where the knife lay, she +caught it up, ran outside, and sent it flying in amongst the trees. +Then coming back, she approached Pen. + +"_Juan malo_!" she cried. "_Malo_--_malo_!" + +"_Mal_--bad," said Pen, smiling. "That's Latin as well as Spanish. +_Si_," he continued, to the girl, "_Juan mal_--_malo_." + +The girl nodded quickly and pointed to his hand. "_Navajo_?" she said. + +"What does that mean?" said Pen. "Knife?" And he shook his head. "No, +no, no, no," he said, and to give effect to his words he energetically +struck the injured hand into its fellow-palm, and then held up the +knuckles, which had begun to bleed again. + +The girl smiled and nodded, and she made again to take the handkerchief +from her neck to bind it up. + +"No, no, no!" cried Pen, laughing and shaking his head. + +The girl looked a little annoyed, and smiled again, and pointed to the +provisions she had brought. + +"_Queso, pano_," she said. "_Las uvas_;" and she caught up one of the +bunches of grapes, picked off a few, and placed them in Punch's hand. +Then turning quickly to the door, she stopped to look round. "_Juan +malo_!" she cried; and the next minute she was out of sight. + +"Ah!" said Punch with a sigh, "wish I was a Spaniel and could tell her +what a good little lass she is, or that I was a scholar like you are; +I'd know how you do it. Why, you quite began to talk her lingo at once. +Think that chap's waiting to begin bullying her again?" + +"I hope not, Punch." + +"So do I. Perhaps he won't for fear that she should tell you, and him +have to run up against your fist again." + +"It's a bad job, Punch, and I want to go down to the stream to bathe my +hand. I dare say I should see him if he were hanging about, for the +girl came from that way." + +"But you needn't say it's a bad job," said Punch. "There's nothing to +mind." + +"I hope not," said Pen thoughtfully. "Perhaps there's nothing to mind. +It would have been a deal worse if the French had found out that we were +here." + +"Yes, ever so much," said Punch. "Here, have some of these grapes; they +are fine. Do you know, that bit of a spurt did me good. I feel better +now as long as I lie quite still. Just as if I had been shamming, and +ought to get up, and--and--oh, no I don't," said the poor fellow softly, +as he made an effort to change his position, the slight movement +bringing forth an ejaculation of pain. "Just like a red-hot bayonet." + +"Poor old chap!" said Pen, gently altering the injured lad's position. +"You must be careful, and wait." + +"But I don't want to wait," cried the boy peevishly. "It has made me +feel as weak as a great gal. I don't believe that one would have made +so much fuss as I do." + +"There, there, don't worry about it. Go on eating the grapes." + +"No," said the boy piteously. "Don't feel to want them now. The shoot +that went through me turned me quite sick. I say, comrade, I sha'n't +want to get up and go on to-morrow. I suppose I must wait another day." + +"Yes, Punch," said Pen, laying his uninjured hand upon the boy's +forehead, which felt cold and dank with the perspiration produced by the +pain. + +"But, I say, do have some of these grapes." + +"Yes, if you will," said Pen, picking up the little bunch that the +wounded boy had let fall upon the bed. "Try. They will take off the +feeling of sickness. Can you eat some of the bread too?" + +"No," said Punch, shaking his head; but he did, and by degrees the pain +died out, and he began to chat about the encounter, and how eager he +felt to get out into the open country again. + +"I say, comrade," he said at last, "I never liked to tell you before, +but when it's been dark I have been an awful coward and lain coming out +wet with scare, thinking I was going to die and that you would have to +scrape a hole for me somewhere and cover me up with stones. I didn't +like to tell you before, because I knew you would laugh at me and tell +me it was all nonsense for being such a coward. D'ye see, that bullet +made a hole in my back and let all the pluck out of me. But your set-to +with that chap seemed to tell me that it hadn't all gone, for I felt +ready for anything again, and that there was nothing the matter with me, +only being as weak as a rat." + +"To be sure!" cried Pen, laying his hand upon the boy's shoulder. "That +is all that's the matter with you. You have got to wait till your +strength comes back again, and then, Punch, you and I are going to see +if we can't join the regiment again." + +"That's right," cried the boy, with his dull eyes brightening; "and if +we don't find them we will go on our travels till we do. Why, it will +be fine, won't it, as soon as I get over being such a cripple. We shall +have 'ventures, sha'n't we?" + +"To be sure," replied Pen; "and you want to get strong, don't you?" + +"Oh, don't I just! I should just like to be strong enough to meet that +brown Spaniel chap and chuck my cap at him." + +"What for?" + +"What for? Set his monkey up and make him come at me. I should just +like it. I have licked chaps as big as he is before now--our chaps, and +one of the Noughty-fourths who was always bragging about and crowing +over me. I don't mind telling you now, I was a bit afraid of him till +one day when he gave me one on the nose and made it bleed. That made me +so savage I forgot all about his being big and stronger, and I went in +at him hot and strong, and the next thing I knew was Corporal Grady was +patting me on the back, and there was quite a crowd of our chaps +standing laughing, and the corporal says, `Bedad, Punchard, boy, ye +licked him foine! Yes, _foine_,' he said, just like that. `Now, go and +wash your face, and be proud of it,' just like that. And then I +remember--" + +"Yes, but remember that another time," said Pen quietly. "You are +talking too much," And he laid his hand on the boy's forehead again. + +"Oh, but I just want to tell you this." + +"Tell me to-morrow, Punch. You are growing excited and feverish." + +"How do you know? You ain't a doctor." + +"No; but I know that your forehead was cold and wet a few minutes ago, +and that it is hot and burning now." + +"Well, that only means that it's getting dry." + +"No; it means doing yourself harm when you want to get well." + +"Well, I must talk," pleaded the boy. + +"Yes, a little." + +"What am I to do? I can't be always going to sleep." + +"No; but go as much as you can, and you will get well the quicker." + +"All right," said Punch sadly. "'Bey orders; so here goes. But I do +wish that the chap as gave me this bullet had got it hisself. I say, +comrade," added the boy, after lying silent for a few minutes. + +"What is it? What do you want?" + +"Just unhook that there cord and hang my bugle on that other peg. Ah, +that's better; I can see it now. Stop a minute--give us hold." + +The boy's eyes brightened as Pen handed him the instrument, and he +looked at it with pride, while directly after, obeying the impulse that +seized him, he placed the mouthpiece to his lips, drew a deep breath, +and with expanding cheeks was about to give forth a blast when Pen +snatched it from his hands. + +"Whatcher doing of?" cried the boy angrily. "Stopping you from bringing +the French down upon us," cried Pen sharply. "What were you thinking +about?" + +"I wasn't thinking at all," said the boy slowly, as his brow wrinkled up +in a puzzled way. "Well, I was a fool! Got a sort of idea in my head +that some of our fellows might hear it and come down and find us." + +"I wish they would," said Pen sadly; "but I don't think there's a doubt +of it, Punch, we are surrounded by the French. There, I'm sorry I was +so rough with you, only you were going to make a mistake." + +"Sarve me jolly well right," said the boy. "I must have been quite off +my chump. There, hang it up. I won't do it again." + +It was quite dark now, and in the silence Pen soon after heard a low, +deep breathing which told him that his wounded companion had once more +sunk asleep, while on his part a busy brain and a smarting hand tended +to reproduce the evening scene, and with it a series of mental questions +as to what would be the result; and so startling were some of the +suggestions that came to trouble the watcher that he placed himself by +the side of the bed farthest from the door and laid his rifle across the +foot ready to hand, as he half-expected to see the dim, oblong square of +the open doorway darkened by an approaching enemy stealing upon them, +knife-armed and silent, ready to take revenge for the blow, urged +thereto by a feeling of jealous hatred against one who had never meant +him the slightest harm. + +That night Pen never closed his eyes, and it was with a sigh of relief +that he saw the first pale light of day stealing down into the rocky +vale. + + + +CHAPTER FIFTEEN. + +JUAN'S REVENGE. + +"Oh, you have come back again, then," grumbled Punch, as Pen met his +weary eyes and the dismal face that was turned sideways to watch the +door of the hut. "Thought you had gone for good and forgotten all about +a poor fellow." + +"No, you didn't, Punch," said Pen, slowly standing his rifle up in a +corner close at hand, as he sank utterly exhausted upon the foot of the +bed. + +"Yes, I did. I expected that you had come across some place where there +was plenty to eat, and some one was giving you bottles of Spanish wine, +and that you had forgotten all about your poor comrade lying here." + +"There, I am too tired to argue with you, Punch," said Pen with a sigh. +"You have drunk all the water, then?" + +"Course I have, hours ago, and eat the last of the bread, and I should +have eat that bit of hard, dry cheese, only I let it slip out of my +fingers and it bounced like a bit of wood under the bed. Well, whatcher +brought for us to eat?" + +"Nothing, I am sorry to say." + +"Well, but what are we going to do? We can't starve." + +"I am afraid we can, Punch, if things are going on like this." + +"But they ain't to go on like this. I won't lie here and starve. Nice +thing for a poor fellow tied up here so bad that he couldn't pick up a +bit of wittles again as had tumbled down, and you gone off roaming about +where you liked, leaving your poor wounded comrade to die! Oh, I do +call it a shame!" cried the lad piteously. + +"Yes, it does seem a shame, Punch," said Pen gently; "but I can fetch +some water. Are you very thirsty?" + +"Thirsty? Course I am! Burnt up! It has been like an oven here all +day." + +Pen caught up the wooden _seau_ and hurried out through the wood, to +return in a few minutes with the vessel brimful of cold, clear water, +which he set down ready, and then after carefully raising the poor boy +into a sitting position he lifted the well-filled drinking-cup to his +lips and replenished it again twice before the poor fellow would give +up. + +"Ah!" he sighed, "that's better! Which way did you go this time?" + +"Out there to the west, where the sun goes down, Punch." + +"Well, didn't you find no farmhouses nor cottages where they'd give you +a bit of something to eat?" + +"Not one; only rough mountain-land, with a goat here and there." + +"Well, why didn't you catch one, or drive your bayonet into it? If we +couldn't cook it we could have eaten it raw." + +"I tried to, Punch, but the two or three I saw had been hunted by the +enemy till they were perfectly wild, and I never got near one." + +"But you didn't see no enemy this time, did you?" + +"Yes; they are dotted about everywhere, and I have been crawling about +all day through the woods so as not to be seen. It's worse there than +in any direction I have been this week. The French are holding the +country wherever I have been." + +"Oh, I do call this a nice game," groaned the wounded boy. "Here, give +us another cup of water. It does fill one up, and I have been feeling +as hollow as a drum." + +Pen handed him the cup once more, and Punch drank with as much avidity +as if it were his first. + +"Yes," he sighed, "I do call it a nice game! I say, though, comrade, +don't you think if you'd waited till it was dark, and then tried, you +could have got through their lines to some place and have begged a bit +of bread?" + +"Perhaps, Punch, if I had not been taken." + +"Well, then, why didn't you try?" + +"Well, we have had that over times enough," said Pen quietly, "and I +think you know." + +"Course I do," said the boy, changing his tone; "only this wound, and +being so hungry, do make me such a beast. If it had been you going on +like this, lying wounded here, and it was me waiting on you, and feeding +you, and tying you up, I should have been sick of it a week ago, and +left you to take your chance." + +"No, you wouldn't, Punch, old chap; it isn't in you," said Pen, "so we +won't argue about that. I only want you to feel that I have done +everything I could." + +"'Cept cutting off and leaving me to take my chance. You haven't done +that." + +"No, I haven't done that, Punch." + +"And I suppose you ain't going to," said the boy, "and I ought to tell +you you are a fool for your pains." + +"But you are not going to do that, Punch." + +"No, I suppose not; and I wish I wasn't such a beast--such an ungrateful +brute. It is all that sore place; and it don't get no better. But, I +say, why don't you go out straight and find the first lot of Frenchies +you can, and say to them like a man, `Here, I give myself up as a +prisoner'?" + +"I told you, Punch, what I believe," replied Pen. + +"Yes; you said you were afraid that they wouldn't have me carried away +on account of my wound." + +"Well, that's what I do believe, Punch. I don't want to be hard on the +French, but they are a very rough lot here in this wild mountain-land, +and I don't believe they would burden themselves with wounded." + +"Well, it wouldn't matter," said the boy dismally. + +"Of course they wouldn't carry me about; but they would put me out of my +misery, and a good job too." + +Pen said nothing, but his face wrinkled up with lines which made him +look ten years older, as he laid his hand upon his comrade's fevered +brow. + +"Ha!" sighed Punch, "that does a fellow good. I don't believe any poor +chap ever had such a comrade as you are; and I lie here sometimes +wondering how you can do so much for such an--" + +"Will you be quiet, Punch?" cried Pen, snatching away his hand. + +"Yes, yes--please don't take it away." + +"Then be quiet. You know how I hate you to talk like this." + +"Yes, all right; I have done. But, I say, do you think it's likely that +gal will come again? She must know that what she brought wouldn't +last." + +"I think, poor lass, she must have got into such trouble with her people +that she daren't come again." + +"Her people!" cried the boy. "It's that ugly black-looking nigger of a +sweetheart of hers. You had a good sight of him that night when you +took aim with your rifle. Why didn't you pull the trigger? A chap like +that's no good in the world." + +"Just the same as you would if you had had hold of the rifle yourself, +Punch--eh?" + +"There you go again," said the boy sulkily. "What a chap you are! You +are always pitching it at me like that. Why, of course I should have +shot him like a man." + +"Would you?" said Pen, smiling. + +"Oh, well, I don't know. Perhaps I shouldn't. Such a chap as that +makes you feel as you couldn't be too hard on him. But it wouldn't be +quite the right thing, I suppose. There, don't bother. It makes my +sore place ache. But, oh, shouldn't I like to tell him what I think of +him! I say, don't you think she may come to-night?" + +"No, Punch; I have almost ceased to hope. Besides, I don't want to +depend on people's charity, though I like to see it I want to be able to +do something for ourselves. No, I don't think she will come any more." + +"I do," said the boy confidently. "I am beginning to think that she +will come after all. She is sure to. She must know how jolly hungry I +should be. She looked so kind. A gal like that wouldn't leave us to +starve. She is a nice, soft-hearted one, she is, though she is Spanish. +I wouldn't take no notice, but I see the tears come in her eyes, and +one of them dropped on my hand when she leaned over me and looked so +sorry because I was in pain. It's a pity she ain't English and lived +somewhere at home where one might expect to see her again. It is very +sad and shocking to have to live in a country like this." + +"Do you feel so hungry now, Punch?" + +"Yes, horrid. Give us a bit of that cheese to nibble. Then I must have +another drink, and try and go to sleep. Feel as though I could now you +have come back. I was afraid I was never going to see you again." + +"I don't believe you thought I had forsaken you, Punch." + +"Not me! You couldn't have done it. 'Tain't in you, comrade, I know. +But I tell you what I did think: that the Frenchies had got hold of you +and made you prisoner. Then I lay here feeling that I could not move +myself, and trying to work it out as to what you'd do--whether you would +try and make them come and fetch me to be a prisoner too, or whether you +would think it wouldn't be safe, and you would be afraid to speak for +fear they should come and bayonet me. And so I went on. Oh, I say, +comrade, it does make a chap feel queer to lie here without being able +to help hisself. I got to think at last that I wished I was dead and +out of my misery." + +"Yes, Punch, lad, I know. It was very hard to bear, but I couldn't help +being so long. I was working for you--for both of us--all the time." + +"Course you was, comrade! I know. And now you've come back, and it's +all right again. Give us another drink of water. It's better than +nothing--ever so much better, because there's plenty of it--and I shall +go to sleep and do as I did last night when I was so hungry--get +dreaming away about there being plenty of good things to eat. I seemed +to see a regular feast--roast-meat and fruit and beautiful white bread; +only it was as rum as rum. I kept on eating all the time, only nothing +seemed to have any taste in it. And, hooray! What did I say! There +she is! But," the boy added, his eager tones of delight seeming to die +away in despair, "she ain't brought no basket!" + +For, eager and panting with her exertions, her eyes bright with +excitement, the peasant-girl suddenly dashed in through the open door, +caught Pen by the breast with one hand, and pointed with the other in +the direction from which she had come, as she whispered excitedly, "_Los +Franceses_!" + +Then, loosening her grasp, she turned quickly to the boy and passed one +hand beneath his neck, signing to Pen to help her raise the wounded lad +from the bed, while Pen hurried to the door to look out. + +"Yes," he whispered quickly, as he turned back, "she means the enemy are +coming, and wants me to carry you to a place of safety.--All right, my +lass; I understand.--Here, Punch, I won't hurt you more than I can help. +Clasp your hands round my neck, and I will carry you.--Here, girl, take +my rifle!" + +He held out the piece, and the girl caught it in her hand, while Pen +drew his companion into a sitting position, stooped down, and turned his +back to the bed. + +"All right; I won't squeak, comrade. Up with me. For'ard!" + +But the boy could not control his muscles, the contractions in his face +showing plainly enough the agony he felt as with one quick movement Pen +raised himself, pressing the clinging hands to his breast, and swung the +poor fellow upon his back. + +The girl nodded sharply, as, rifle in hand, she made for the door, +beckoning to Pen to follow quickly; and then, with a look of despair, +she stopped short, her actions showing plainly enough what she must be +saying, for there was a quick rush among the trees outside, and the +young Spaniard dashed to the front of the hut, made a snatch at the +rifle the girl was bearing, and tore it from her grasp as he drove her +back into the hut and barred the way, uttering a loud hail the while. + +"Too late! We are too late, Punch," said Pen bitterly. "Here they are! +Prisoners, my lad. I can do no more." + +For, as he spoke, about a dozen of the enemy doubled up to the front of +the hut, and the young Spaniard who had betrayed the two lads stood +before Pen, showing his white teeth in a malignant grin of triumph, as +he held the girl by the wrist. + + + +CHAPTER SIXTEEN. + +PRISONERS. + +"Are you in much pain, Punch?" said Pen, as, with his wrists tied +tightly behind him, he knelt beside his comrade, who lay now just +outside the door of the hut, a couple of French chasseurs on guard. + +The officer in command of the little party had taken possession of the +hut for temporary bivouac, and his men had lighted a fire, whose flames +picturesquely lit up the surrounding trees, beneath which the new-comers +had stretched themselves and were now partaking of bread, grapes, and +the water a couple of their party had fetched from the stream. + +The young Spaniard was seated aloof from the girl, whose back was +half-turned from him as she sat there seeming to have lost all interest +in the scene and those whom she had tried to warn of the danger they +were in. + +From time to time the Spanish lad spoke to her, but she only jerked her +head away from him, looking more indifferent than ever. + +"Are you in much pain, Punch?" asked Pen again; for the boy had not +replied, and Pen leaned more towards him, to gaze in his face +searchingly. + +"Oh, pretty tidy," replied the boy at last; "but it's better now. You +seemed to wake up my wound, but it's going to sleep again. I say, +though, I didn't show nothing, did I?" + +"No, you bore it bravely." + +"Did I? That's right. I was afraid, though, that I should have to +howl; but I am all right now. And I say, comrade, look here; some chaps +miche--you know, sham bad--so as to get into hospital to be fed up and +get off duty, and they do it too, you know." + +"Yes, I know," said Pen, watching the lad anxiously. "But don't talk so +much." + +"Must; I want to tell you, I am going to miche--sham, you know--the +other way on." + +"What do you mean?" said Pen. + +"Why, make-believe I'm all right. Make these froggies think my wound's +only a scratch. Then perhaps they will march me off along with you as a +prisoner. I don't want them to--you know." + +"March you off!" said Pen bitterly. "Why, you know you can't stand." + +"Can't! I've got to. You'll let me hold tight of your arm. I've got +to, comrade, and I will. It means setting one's teeth pretty hard. +Only wish I had got a bullet to bite. It would come easy then. Look +here, wait a bit, and then you back up a bit closer to me. Haven't tied +my hands like yours. Just you edge close so as I can slip my fingers +into your box. I want to get out one cartridge for the sake of the +bullet." + +"You can't, Punch. Didn't you see they slipped off the belt, and that +young Spaniard's got it along with my rifle?" + +"So he has! I didn't know. Now then, wasn't I right when I said you +ought to have fired at him and brought him down? Well, I must have a +bullet somehow. I know. I will try and get the girl to get hold of the +case; only I don't know how it's to be done without knowing what to say. +Can't you put me up to it, comrade?" + +"No, Punch." + +"But you might give a fellow a bit of advice." + +"My advice is to lie still and wait." + +"Well, that's pretty advice, that is, comrade. Wait till they comes and +makes an end of a fellow if he breaks down, for I am beginning to think +that I sha'n't be able to go through with it." + +"Let's wait and see what happens, Punch. We have done our best, and we +can do no more." + +Just then Pen's attention was taken up by the young officer, who came to +the door of the hut, yawned, and stood looking about at his men before +slowly sauntering round the bivouac as if to see that all was right, the +sentries drawing themselves up stiffly as he passed on, till he caught +sight of the Spanish girl and the lad seated together in the full light +cast by the fire. + +Then turning sharply to one of his men, the young officer pointed at the +Spaniard and gave an order in a low, imperious tone. + +Two of his men advanced to the lit-up group, and one of them gave the +lad a sharp clap on the shoulder which made him spring up angrily, while +the other chasseur snatched the English rifle from his hand, the first +chasseur seizing the cartridge-belt and case. + +There was a brief struggle, but it was two to one, and the Spaniard, as +Pen watched the encounter eagerly, was sent staggering back, catching +his heel in a bush and falling heavily, but only to rebound on the +instant, springing up knife now in hand and making at the nearest +soldier. + +"Ha!" gasped Punch excitedly, as he saw the gleam of the knife; and then +he drew in his breath with a hiss, for it was almost momentary: one of +the two French soldiers who had approached him to obey his officer's +orders and disarm the informer just raised his musket and made a drive +with the butt at the knife-armed Spaniard, who received the metal plate +of the stock full in his temple and rolled over, half-stunned, amongst +the bushes. + +Another order rang out from the officer, and before the young Spaniard +could recover himself a couple more of the soldiers had pounced upon +him, and a minute later he was firmly bound, as helpless a prisoner as +the young rifleman who watched the scene. + +"Say, comrade," whispered Punch, "that's done me good. But do you see +that?" + +"See it? Why, of course I saw it. That's not what he bargained for +when he led the Frenchmen here." + +"No, I don't mean that," whispered Punch impatiently. "I meant the +gal." + +"The girl?" said Pen. "What about her?" + +"Where is she?" whispered Punch. + +"Why, she was--" + +"Yes, _was_," whispered Punch again; "but where is she now? She went +off like a shot into the woods." + +"Ah!" exclaimed Pen, with a look of relief in his eyes. + +"Yes, she's gone; and now I want to know what's going to be next. Here +comes the officer. What'll be his first order? To shoot us, and that +young Spaniel too?" + +"No," said Pen. "But don't talk; he's close here." + +The officer approached his prisoners now, closely followed by one of his +men, whose _galons_ showed that he was a sergeant. + +"Badly wounded, eh?" said the officer in French. + +"Yes, sir; too bad to stand." + +"The worse for him," said the officer. "Well, we can't take wounded men +with us; we have enough of our own." + +"Yes, sir," said the sergeant; and Pen felt the blood seem to run cold +through his veins. + +And then curiously enough there was a feeling of relief in the knowledge +that his wounded comrade could not understand the words he had grasped +at once. + +"We shall go back to camp in half an hour," continued the officer; and +then running his eye over Pen as he sat up by Punch's side, "This fellow +all right?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"See to his fastenings. I leave him to you." + +"But surely, sir," cried Pen, in very good French, "you are not going to +have my poor companion shot in cold blood because he has the misfortune +to be wounded?" + +"Eh, do you understand French?" + +"Yes, sir; every word you have said." + +"But you are not an officer?" + +"I have my feelings, sir, and I appeal to you as an officer and a +gentleman to save that poor fellow. It would be murder, and not the act +of a soldier." + +"Humph!" grunted the officer. "You boys should have stayed at home.-- +Here, sergeant, carry the lad into camp. Find room for him in the +ambulance.--There, sir, are you satisfied now?" he continued to Pen. + +"Yes, sir," replied Pen quickly; "satisfied that I am in the presence of +a brave French officer. God bless you for this!" + +The officer nodded and turned away, the sergeant stopping by the +prisoners. + +"Here, I say," whispered Punch, "what was all that talking about?" + +"Only arranging about how you were to be carried into camp, Punch," +replied Pen. + +"Gammon! Don't you try and gull me. I know," panted the boy excitedly. +"I could not understand the lingo; but you were begging him not to have +me shot, and he gave orders to this 'ere sergeant to carry out what he +said. You are trying to hide it from me so as I shouldn't know. But +you needn't. I should like to have gone out like our other chaps have-- +shot fair in the field; but if it's to be shot as a prisoner, well, I +mean to take it like a man." + +The boy's voice faltered for a few moments as he uttered the last words, +and then he added almost in a whisper, "I mean, if I can, for I'm awful +weak just now. But you'll stand by me, comrade, and I think I will go +through it as I ought. And you will tell the lads when you get back +that I didn't show the white feather, but went out just like a fellow +ought?" + +"That won't be now, Punch," said Pen, leaning over him. "I am not +deceiving you. I appealed to the officer, and he gave orders at once +that you were to be carried by the men to their camp and placed in one +of the ambulance wagons." + +"Honour?" cried Punch excitedly. "Honour bright," replied Pen. "But +that means taking me away from you," cried the boy, with his voice +breaking. + +"Yes; but to go into hospital and be well treated." + +"Oh, but I don't want to go like that," cried the boy wildly. "Can't +you ask the officer--can't you tell him that--oh, here--you--we two +mustn't--mustn't be--" For the sergeant now joined them with a couple of +men carrying a rough litter; and as Punch, almost speechless now, caught +at his wrist and clung to him tightly, he looked down in the prisoner's +wildly appealing eyes. + +"Why, what's the matter with the boy?" growled the sergeant roughly. +"Does he think he's going to be shot?" + +"He's badly hurt, sir," said Pen quietly, "and can't bear being +separated from me." + +"Oh, that's it, is it, sir?" said the sergeant. "My faith, but you +speak good French! Tell him that I'll see that he's all right. What's +his hurt--bayonet?" + +"No," said Pen, smiling. "A French bullet--one of your men aimed too +well." + +"Ha, ha! Yes, we know how to shoot. Poor fellow! Why, I have just +such a boy as he.--Lift him up gently, lads.--Humph! He has fainted." + +For poor Punch had held out bravely to the last; but nature was too +strong even for his British pluck. + + + +CHAPTER SEVENTEEN. + +IN MISERY. + +"I say, Pen, are you there?" + +"Yes, I'm here. What do you want?" + +"Want you to turn me round so as I can look out of the door. What made +you put me like this?" + +"It wasn't my doing. You were put so that you might be more +comfortable." + +"But I am not more comfortable, and it's so jolly dark. I like to be +able to look out of the door if I wake in the night." + +"Hush! Don't talk so loudly." + +"Why not? There's nobody to hear. But just turn me over first." + +"Hush! There are three or four other people to hear," whispered Pen. +"You are half-asleep yet. Don't you understand, Punch?" + +"Understand--understand what?" said the poor fellow, subduing his voice +in obedience to his companion's words. + +"I must tell you, I suppose." + +"Tell me? Why, of course! Oh, I begin to understand now. Have I been +off my head a bit?" + +"Yes; you were very much upset when the French officer was with us, and +fainted away." + +"Phee-ew!" whistled the boy softly. "Oh, it's all coming back now. The +French came, and knocked over that Spanish chap, and I thought that they +were going to take me away and shoot me. Why, they didn't, then! +That's all right. Yes, I remember now. My head was all in a muddledum. +I got thinking I was never going to see you any more. When was it-- +just now?" + +"No, Punch, it was two nights ago, and the doctor thought--" + +"The doctor? Why, you have been my doctor. I say--" + +"Don't get excited. Lie quite still, and I will tell you." + +"Ah, do. I am all in a muddle still; only you might turn me round, so +that I can look straight out of the door, and I could breathe the fresh +air then. I am being quite stuffercated like this." + +"Yes, the hut is dreadfully hot," said Pen with a sigh. "There are six +other poor wounded fellows lying here." + +"Six other wounded fellows lying here! Whatcher talking about?" + +"Only this, Punch," said Pen, with his lips close to the boy's ear. +"You were carried to the little camp where those French came from that +made us prisoners, and there you were put in an ambulance wagon with six +more poor fellows, and the mules dragged us right away to a village +where a detachment of the French army was in occupation. Do you +understand?" + +"I think so. But you said something about doctors." + +"Yes. There are several surgeons in this village, and wounded men in +every hut. There has been fighting going on, and a good many more +wounded men were brought in yesterday." + +"Halt!" said Punch in a quick, short whisper. "Steady! Did we win?" + +"I don't know, but I think not. I've seen nothing but wounded men and +the doctors and the French orderlies. The French officer was very nice, +and let me stay with you in the ambulance; and when we came to a halt +and I helped to carry you and the other wounded into this hut, one of +the doctors ordered me to stop and help, so that I have been able to +attend to you as well as the others." + +"Good chap! That was lucky. Then this ain't our hut at all?" + +"No." + +"What's become of that gal, then?" + +"She escaped somewhere in the darkness," replied Pen. + +"And what about that Spanish beggar? Ah, I recollect that now. He +brought the French to take us prisoners." + +"I haven't seen any more of him, Punch, since they led him away." + +"Serve him right! And so I've been lying here in this hut ever since?" + +"Yes, quite insensible, and I don't think you even knew when the French +surgeon dressed your wound and took out a ragged bit of the cartridge." + +"Took out what?" + +"A piece of the wad that was driven in, and kept the wound from +healing." + +"Well, you have been carrying on nice games without me knowing of it!" +said the boy. "And it hasn't done me a bit of good." + +"The doctor says it has. He told me yesterday evening that you would +soon get right now." + +"And shall I?" + +"Yes, I hope so." + +"So do I. But it does seem rum that all this should be done without my +knowing of it." + +"Well, you have been quite insensible." + +"I suppose so. But where are we now, then?" + +"I don't know, Punch, except that this is a little Spanish village which +the French have been occupying as a sort of hospital." + +"But where's all the fighting?" + +"I don't know, Punch, much more than you do. There was some firing last +night. I heard a good deal of tramping close at hand, as if some more +men were marching in, and then more and more came through the night, and +I heard firing again about a couple of hours ago; but it seemed to be +miles away." + +"And you don't know who's beat?" + +"I know nothing, I tell you, only that everything has been very quiet +for the last hour or so." + +"Perhaps because you have been asleep," said Punch. + +"No; I have been quite awake, fetching water from a mountain-stream here +for the poor fellows who keep asking for more and more." + +"Do they know we are English?" + +"I don't think so. Poor fellows! their wounds keep them from thinking +about such a thing as that; and, besides, I am just able to understand +what they say, and to say a few words when they ask for drink or to be +moved a little." + +"Oh," said Punch, "that comes of being able to talk French. Wish I +could. Here, I say, you said the doctor had been doing up my wound +again. Think I could walk now?" + +"I am sure you couldn't." + +"I ain't," said the boy. "Perhaps I could if I tried." + +"But why do you ask?" said Pen. "Because it's so jolly nice and dark; +and, besides, it's all so quiet. Couldn't we slip off and find the way +to our troops?" + +"That's what I've been thinking, Punch, ever since you have been lying +here." + +"Of course you would," said the boy in an eager whisper. "And why not? +I think I could manage it, and I'm game." + +"You must wait, Punch, and with me think ourselves lucky that we are +still together. Wait and get strong enough, and then we will try." + +"Oh, all right. I shall do what you tell me. But I say, what's become +of your rifle and belt?" + +"I don't know. I saw them once. They were with some muskets and +bayonets laid in the mule-wagon under the straw on one side. But I +haven't seen them since." + +"That's a pity," sighed the boy faintly; and soon after Pen found, when +he whispered to him, that he was breathing softly and regularly, while +his head felt fairly cool in spite of the stifling air of the crowded +hut. + +Punch did not stir till long after sunrise, and when he did it was to +see that, utterly exhausted, his companion had sunk into a deep sleep, +for the rest of that terrible night had been spent in trying to assuage +the agony of first one and then another of the most badly wounded who +were lying around. Every now and then there had been a piteous appeal +for water to slake the burning thirst, and twice over the lad had to +pass through the terrible experience of holding the hand of some poor +fellow who in the darkness had whispered his last few words as he passed +away. + +Later on a couple more wounded men had been borne in by the light of a +lantern, by whose aid a place was found for them in the already too +crowded hut, and it became Pen's duty to hold the dim open lantern and +cast the light so that a busy surgeon, who was already exhausted by his +long and terrible duties, could do his best to bandage and stop some +wound. + +It was just at daylight, in the midst of the terrible silence which had +now fallen around, that Pen's head had sunk slowly down till it rested +upon Punch's shoulder; and when the sun rose at last its horizontal rays +lit up the dismal scene, with the elder lad's pallid and besmirched +face, consequent upon the help he had been called upon to render, giving +him the appearance of being one of the wounded men. + + + +CHAPTER EIGHTEEN. + +WAR'S HORRORS. + +But the morning brought not only the horizontal rays of the great sun +which lit up the hut with its sad tale of death and suffering, but +likewise a renewal of the fight of the previous day, and this time the +tide of battle swept much nearer to the encampment of the wounded. + +Punch started out of a state of dreamy calm, and wondered why the noise +he heard had not roused up his sleeping comrade, for from apparently +quite near at hand came the boom of artillery, a sound which for the +moment drowned all others, even the hoarse, harshly uttered words of +command, as large bodies of men swung past the doorway of the hut, and +the fitful bugle-calls which a minute before had fallen on his ear. + +"Ah," he muttered, "it's a big fight going on out there. I wonder if +those are our guns;" and once more the air was rent by the dull, angry +roar of artillery. "Pen! Pen! Oh, I can't let him sleep! Why doesn't +he wake up? Here, I say, comrade!" + +"Eh, what is it?" And Pen opened his eyes, to gaze wonderingly at +Punch's excited face. + +"Don't you hear?" + +"Hear? Yes, yes," And the dreamy look vanished from the other's eyes. + +The two lads waited, listening, and then Punch put his lips close to +Pen's ear. + +"I am sure we are winning," he said. "Hear that?" + +"How can I help hearing it?" + +"Well, it's English guns, I know." + +"Think so?" + +"Yes, and they will be here soon." + +Pen shook his head. + +"Afraid not," he said; "and--Ah, all right.--Punch, lad, I'm wanted." +For just then a man came hurriedly into the hut and made him a sign. + +"What does he want?" grumbled Punch. + +"It's the surgeon," said Pen, and he hurried away. + +For some hours--long, hot, weary hours--Punch saw little of his +fellow-prisoner, the morning wearing on and the atmosphere of the hovel +becoming unbearably close, while all the time outside in the brilliant +sunshine, evidently just on the other side of a stretch of purple hilly +land, a battle was in progress, the rattle of musketry breaking into the +heavy volume of sound made by the field-guns, while every now and again +on the sun-baked, dusty stretch which lay beyond the doorway, where the +shadows were dark, a mounted man galloped past. + +"Wish my comrade would come back," he muttered; and it was long ere his +wish was fulfilled. But the time came at last, and Pen was standing +there before him, holding in his hands a tin drinking-cup and a piece of +bread. + +"Take hold," he said hoarsely, looking away. + +"Where you been?" said Punch. + +"Working in the ambulance. I--I--" And Pen staggered, and sat down +suddenly on the ground. + +"What's the matter? Not hit?" + +"No, no." + +"Had anything yourself?" + +"Bother!" said Pen. "Make haste. Toss off that water. I want the +cup." + +"Had anything yourself?" repeated Punch firmly. + +"Well, no." + +"Then I sha'n't touch a drop until you have half and take some of that +bread." + +"But--" + +"It's no good, Pen. I sha'n't and I won't--so there!" + +Pen hesitated. + +"Very well," he said; "half." And he drank some of the water. "It's +very good--makes one feel better," and he ate a morsel or two of bread. +"I had a job to get it." + +"What did that fellow want?" asked Punch as he attacked his share. + +"Me to help with the wounded," said Pen huskily. "So you thought me +long?" + +"Course I did. But the wounded--are there many?" + +"Heaps," said Pen. "But don't talk so loudly." + +"Poor chaps," said Punch, "they can't hear what we say. How are things +going? There, they are at it again." + +"I think the French are giving ground," said Pen in a whisper. + +"Hooray!" + +"Hush!" + +"What, mayn't I say hooray?" + +"No, you mayn't. I have picked up a little since I went away. I fancy +our men have been coming on to try and take this village, but I couldn't +make out much for the smoke; and, besides, I have been with that surgeon +nearly all the time." + +"Yes," said Punch. "Well, will they do it?" + +Pen shook his head. + +"Don't think so," he said. "They have tried it twice. I heard what was +being done. Our people were driven back, and--" + +He said no more, but turned to the door; and Punch strained his eyes in +the same direction, as from away to the right, beyond a group of +cottages, came a bugle-call, shrill, piercing, then again and again, +while Punch started upright with a cry, catching Pen's arm. + +"I say, hear that? That's our charge. Don't you hear? They are coming +on again!" + +The effort Punch had made caused a pain so intense that he fell back +with a groan. + +"You can leave me, Pen, old chap," he said. + +"Don't mind me; don't look. But--but it's the English charge. Go to +them. They are coming--they are, I tell you. Don't look like that, +and--and--There, listen!" + +The two lads were not the only ones in that hut to listen then and to +note that the conflict was drawing nearer and nearer. + +Punch, indeed, was right, and a short time after Pen crouched down +closer to his companion, for now, quite close at hand, came volley after +volley, the _zip, zip_ of the ricochetting bullets seeming to clear the +way for the charge. + +Then more volleys. + +The dust was ploughed up, and Punch started as a bullet came with a soft +_plug_ in the hut-wall, and Pen's heart felt ready to stop beating as +there was a hoarse command outside, and half-a-dozen French infantry +dashed into the building, to fill the doorway, two lying down and their +comrades kneeling and standing. + +"Don't speak," whispered Pen, for the boy had wrenched himself round and +was gazing intently at the backs of the soldiers. "Don't speak." + +Silence, before a grim happening. Then a roar from outside, exultant +and fierce, and in the wide-open space beyond the hut-door the two lads +saw a large body of the enemy in retreat before the serried ranks of +British infantry who came on at the double, their bayonets flashing in +the sun's rays, and cheering as they swept onward. + +The muskets in the doorway flashed, and the hut was filled with smoke. + +"Pen, I must whisper it--Hooroar!" + +There was a long interval then, with distant shouting and scattered +firing, and it was long ere the cloud of smoke was dissipated +sufficiently for the two lads to make out that now the doorway was +untenanted except by a French chasseur who lay athwart the threshold on +his back, his hand still clutching at the sling of his piece. + +"Think we have won?" whispered Punch, looking away. + +"Don't know," muttered Pen; but the knowledge that was wanted came soon +enough, for an hour later it became evident that the gallant attempt of +the British commander to take the village had been foiled. + +The British cheer they had heard still echoed in their ears, but it was +not repeated, and it was speedily apparent that the fight had swept away +to their left; and from scraps of information dropped by the members of +the bearer-party who brought more wounded into the already crowded hut, +and took away the silent figure lying prone in the entrance, Pen made +out that the French had made a stand and had finally succeeded in +driving back their foes. + +In obedience to an order from the grim-featured surgeon, he left Punch's +side again soon after, and it was dark ere he returned, to find the boy +fast asleep. He sank down and listened, feeling now but little fatigue, +starting up, however, once more, every sense on the alert, as there came +a series of sharp commands at the hut-door, and he realised that he must +have dropped off, for it was late in the evening, and outside the soft +moonlight was making the scene look weird and strange. + + + +CHAPTER NINETEEN. + +ANOTHER BREAKDOWN. + +Punch heard the voices too, and he reached out and felt for his +comrade's hand. + +"What is it?" he whispered. "Have they won? Not going to shoot me, are +they?" + +"No, no," said Pen, "but"--and he dropped his voice--"I think we are all +going on." + +He was quite right, and all through that night the slow business of +setting a division on the march was under way, and the long, long train +of baggage wagons drawn by the little wiry mules of the country began to +move. + +The ambulance train followed, with its terrible burden heavily increased +with the results of the late engagement, while as before--thanks to the +service he had been able to render--Pen was able to accompany the +heavily laden wagon in which Punch lay. + +"So we were beaten," said the boy sadly--as the wheels of the lumbering +vehicle creaked loudly, for the route was rough and stony--and Pen +nodded. + +"Beaten. Yes," And his voice was graver than before at the thought of +what he had seen since they had been prisoners. + +On, on, on, through the dark hours, with Punch falling off every now and +again into a fitful sleep--a sleep broken by sudden intervals of +half-consciousness, when Pen's heart was wrung by the broken words +uttered by his companion: "Not going to shoot me, are they? Don't let +them do that, comrade." While, as the weary procession continued its +way on to the next village, where they were about to halt, Pen had +another distraction, for as he trudged painfully on by the side of the +creaking wagon a hand was suddenly placed on his arm. + +He turned sharply. + +"Eh, what?" he cried. + +"Well?" said a half-familiar voice, and in the dim light he recognised +the features of the young French captain who had listened to his appeal +to save the bugler's life. + +"Rough work, sir," said Pen. + +"Yes. Your fellows played a bold game in trying to dislodge us. Nearly +succeeded, _ma foi_! But we drove them back." + +"Yes," said Pen. + +"How's your friend?" asked the captain. + +"Better." + +"That's well. And now tell me, where did you learn to speak French so +well?" + +"From my tutor," answered Pen. + +"Your tutor! And you a simple soldier! Well, well! You English are +full of surprises." + +Pen laughed. + +"I suppose so," he said; "but we are not alone in that." + +The French captain chatted a little longer, and then once more Pen was +alone--alone but for the strange accompaniment of sounds incident to the +night march: the neighing of horses, the scraps of quick talking which +fell on his ear, along with that never-ceasing creak, rumble, and jolt +of the wagons, a creaking and jolting which seemed to the tired brain as +though they would go on for ever and ever. + +He was aroused out of a strange waking dream, in which the past and the +present were weirdly blended, by a voice which called him by name, and +he tried to shake himself free from the tangle of confused thought which +hemmed him in. + +"Aren't you there?" came the voice again. + +"Yes, Punch, yes. What is it?" + +"Ah, that's all right! I wanted to tell you that I feel such a lot +better." + +"Glad to hear it, Punch." + +"Yes, I feel as if I could get out of this now." + +"You had better not try," said Pen with a forced laugh. "I think--I +think--" And then the confusion came again. + +"What do you think?" said Punch. + +"Think?" cried the other. "I--what do you mean?" + +In the darkness of the heavy vehicle, Punch's face betrayed a feeling of +alarm, and he tried to figure it out. Something in Pen's voice +frightened him. + +"He is not the same," he muttered; and his impression was substantiated +when a halt was called just about the time of dawn, for Pen dropped like +a log by the wagon-side; and when Punch, with great pain to himself, +struggled into a sitting position, and then clambered down to his +comrade, he found to his horror that his worst fears were realised. + +Pen's forehead was burning, and the poor lad was muttering incoherently, +and not in a condition to pay heed to the words of his companion. + +"Gray, Gray! Can't you hear? What's wrong?" + +The village which was the new headquarters was higher up in the +mountains; and whether it was the fresher air operating beneficially, or +whether the period of natural recovery had arrived, certain it was that +Punch found himself able to move about again; and during the days and +weeks that followed he it was who took the post of nurse and attended to +the wants of Pen--wants, alas! too few, for the sufferer was a victim to +something worse than a mere shot-wound susceptible to efficient +dressing, for the most dangerous, perhaps, of all fevers had laid him +low. + +The period passed as in a long dream, and the thought of rejoining the +British column had for a time ceased to animate Punch's brain. + +But youth and a strong constitution rose superior in Pen's case to all +the evils of circumstance and environment, and one afternoon the old +clear look came back to his eyes. + +"Ah, Punch," he said, "better?" + +"Better?" said the boy. "I--I am well; but you--how are you now?" + +"I--have I been ill?" + +"Ill!" cried Punch, and he turned and looked at an orderly who was +hurrying past. "He asks if he has been ill!--Why, Pen, you have had a +fever which has lasted for weeks." + +Pen tried to sit up, and he would have dismally failed in the attempt +had not Punch encircled him with his arm. + +"Why--why," he said faintly, "I am as weak as weak!" + +"Yes, that you are." + +"But, Punch, what has been happening?" + +"I don't know. I can't understand what all these people say; but they +let me fetch water for them and attend to you; and to-day there has been +a lot going on--troops marching past." + +"Yes," said Pen; "that means there has been another fight." + +"No, I don't think so." + +"Why not?" + +"Because I have heard no firing. But hadn't you better go to sleep +again?" + +Pen smiled, but he took the advice and lay back. + +"Perhaps I had," he said faintly; and as Punch watched him he fell into +a restful doze. + +So it was during the days that followed, each one bringing back more +strength to the invalid, and likewise each day a further contingent of +the wounded in the battle of a month before being passed as fit for +service again and drafted to the front; while each day, too, Pen found +that the strength that used to be his was returning little by little, +and he listened eagerly one night when Punch bent over him and whispered +something in his ear. + +"You know I have been talking about it to you," said the boy, "for +several nights past; and when I wasn't talking about it I was thinking +of it. But now--now I think the time has come." + +"To escape?" cried Pen eagerly. "You mean it?" + +"Yes; I have been watching what has gone on. We are almost alone here, +with only wounded and surgeons. The rest have gone; and--and behind +this village there is a forest of those scrubby-barked oak-trees." + +"Cork-trees," said Pen. + +"Oh, that's it!" And the boy drew himself up. "But do you think you +are strong enough yet?" + +"Strong enough? Of course." And Pen rose, to stand at his companion's +side. "Do you know the way?" + +"Yes," And Punch felt for and took his companion's hand, trying to see +his face in the pitchy darkness. "It is to the right of the camp." + +"Then let's go." + +"Wait," said Punch, and he glided off into the blackness, leaving Pen +standing there alone. + +But it was not for long. In a minute or two the boy was back once more, +and this time he held something in his arms. + +"Ready?" he asked in a whisper. + +"Yes. What for?" + +"Stoop.--That's it. I watched, and took them--not English ones, but +they will shoot, I expect," And softly he slipped the sling of a musket +over Pen's shoulders, following that by handing him a cartouche-box and +belt. "I have got a gun for myself too. Better than a bugle. There!" +And in the darkness there was the sound of a belt being tightly drawn +through a buckle. "Are you ready?" + +"Yes," said Pen. + +"Where's your hand?" + +"Here." + +"Right!" And the younger lad gripped his friend's extended palm. "Now, +it's this way. I planned it all when you were so ill, and said to +myself that it would be the way when you got better. Come along." + +Softly and silently the two slipped off in the darkness, making for the +belt of forest where the gloomy leafage made only a slight blur against +the black velvet sky. + + + +CHAPTER TWENTY. + +HUNTED. + +"What's the matter, Punch? Wound beginning to hurt you again?" + +"No," said the boy surlily. + +"What is it, then? What are you thinking about?" + +"Thinking about you being so grumpy." + +"Grumpy! Well, isn't it enough to make a fellow feel low-spirited when +he has been ill for weeks, wandering about here on these mountain-sides, +hunted as if we were wild beasts, almost starving, and afraid to go near +any of the people?" + +"No," replied Punch with quite a snarl. "If you had had a bullet in +your back like I did there's something to grumble about. I don't +believe you ever knew how it hurt." + +"Oh yes, I did, Punch," said Pen quietly, "for many a time I have felt +for you when I have seen you wincing and your face twitching with pain." + +"Of course you did. I know. You couldn't have been nicer than you +were. But what have you got to grumble about now you're better?" + +"Our bad luck in not getting back to some of our people." + +"Well, I should like that too, only I don't much mind. You see, I can't +help feeling as jolly as a sand-boy." + +"I don't know that sand-boys have anything much to be jolly about, +Punch," said Pen, brightening up. + +"More do I--but it's what people say," said Punch; "only, I do feel +jolly. To be out here in the sunshine--and the moonshine, too, of a +night--and having a sort of feeling that I can sit down now without my +back aching and smarting, and feeling that I want to run and jump and +shout. You know what it is to feel better, now, as well as I do. This +ain't home, of course; but everything looks wonderful nice, and every +morning I wake up it all seems to me as if I was having a regular long +holiday. I say, do say you are enjoying yourself too." + +"I can't, Punch. There are too many drawbacks." + +"Oh, never mind them." + +"But I can't help it. You know I have been dreadfully weak." + +"But you shouldn't worry about that. I don't mind a bit now you are +getting well." + +"What, not when we are faint with hunger?" + +"No, not a bit. It makes me laugh. It seems such a jolly game to think +we have got to hunt for our victuals. Oh, I think we are having a +regular fine time. It's a splendid place! Come on." + +"No, no; we had better rest a little more." + +"Not me! Let's get some chestnuts. Ain't it a shame to grumble when +you get plenty of them as you can eat raw or make a fire and roast them? +Starve, indeed! Then look at the grapes we have had; and you never +know what we shall find next. Why, it was only yesterday that woman +gave us some bread, and pointed to the onions, and told us to take more; +leastways she jabbered and kept on pointing again. Of course, we +haven't done as well as we did in the hut, when the girl brought us +bread and cheese and milk; but I couldn't enjoy it then with all that +stinging in my back. And everything's good now except when you look so +grumpy." + +"Well, Punch, most of my grumpiness has been on your account, and I will +cheer up now. If I could only meet some one to talk to and understand +us, so that we could find out where our people are, I wouldn't care." + +"Well, never mind all that, and don't care. I don't. Here we are +having a big holiday in the country. We have got away from the French, +and we are not prisoners. I am all alive and kicking again, and I feel +more than ever that I don't care for anything now you are getting more +and more well. There's only one thing as would make me as grumpy as you +are." + +"What's that, Punch?" + +"To feel that my wound was getting bad again. I say, you don't think it +will, do you?" + +"No; why should I? It's all healing up beautifully." + +"Then I don't care for anything," cried the boy joyously. "Yes, I do. +I feel horrid wild sometimes to think they took away my bugle; +leastways, I suppose they did. I never saw it no more; and it don't +seem natural not to have that to polish up. I have got a musket, +though; and, I say, why don't we have a day's shooting, and knock over a +kid or a pig?" + +"Because it would be somebody's kid or pig, and we should be hunted down +worse than ever, for, instead of the French being after us for escaped +prisoners, we should rouse the people against us for killing their +property." + +"Yes, that would be bad," said Punch; "but it would only be because we +are hungry." + +"Yes, but the people wouldn't study that." + +"Think they would knife us for it?" said the boy thoughtfully. + +"I hope not; but they would treat us as enemies, and it would go bad +with us, I feel sure." + +"Well, we are rested now," said Punch. "Let's get on again a bit." + +"Which way shall we go?" said Pen. + +"I dunno; anywhere so's not to run against the French. I have had +enough of them. Let's chance it." + +Pen laughed merrily, his comrade's easy-going, reckless way having its +humorous side, and cheering him up at a time when their helpless +condition made him ready to despair. + +"Well," he said, "if we are to chance it, Punch, let's get out of this +wood and try to go downhill." + +"What for?" + +"Easier travelling," said Pen. "We may reach another pleasant valley, +and find a village where the people will let us beg some bread and +fruit." + +"Yes, of course," said Punch, frowning; "but it don't seem nice-- +begging." + +"Well, we have no money to buy. What are we to do?" + +"Grab," said Punch laconically. + +"What--steal?" cried Pen. + +"Steal! Gammon! Aren't we soldiers? Soldiers forage. 'Tain't +stealing. We must live in an enemy's country." + +"But the Spaniards are not our enemies." + +"There, now you are harguing, and I hate to hargue when you are hungry. +What I say is, we are soldiers and in a strange country, and that we +must take what we want. It's only foraging; so come on." + +"Come along then, Punch," said Pen good-humouredly. "But you are +spoiling my morals, and--" + +"Pst!" whispered Punch. "Lie down." + +He set the example, throwing himself prone amongst the rough growth that +sprang up along the mountain-slope; and Pen followed his example. + +"What can you see?" he whispered, as he crept closer to his comrade's +side, noting the while that as he lay upon his chest the boy had made +ready his musket and prepared to take aim. "You had better not shoot." + +"Then tell them that too," whispered Punch. + +"Them! Who?" + +"Didn't you see?" + +"I saw nothing." + +"I did--bayonets, just below yonder. Soldiers marching." + +"Soldiers?" whispered Pen joyfully. "They may be some of our men." + +"That they are not. They are French." + +French they undoubtedly were; for as the lads peered cautiously from +their hiding-place, and listened to the rustling and tramp of many feet, +an order rang out which betrayed the nationality of what seemed to be a +large body of men coming in their direction. + +"Keep snug," whispered Punch, "and they won't see us. It's too close +here." + +Pen gripped his companion's arm, and lay trying to catch sight of the +marching men for some minutes with a satisfied feeling that the troops +were bearing away from them. But his heart sank directly after; a +bugle-call rang out, the men again changed their direction, the line +extended, and it became plain that they would pass right over the ground +where the two lads lay. + +"I am afraid they will see us, Punch," whispered Pen. "What's to be +done?" + +"Run for it. Look here, make straight for that wood up the slope," +whispered Punch. "You go first, and I will follow." + +"But that's uphill," whispered Pen. + +"Bad for them as for us," replied the boy. "Up with you; right for the +wood. Once there, we are safe." + +Punch had said he hated to argue, and it was no time for argument then +as to the best course. + +Pen gazed in the direction of the approaching party, but they were +invisible; and, turning to his comrade, "Now then," he said, "off!" + +Springing up, he started at a quick run in and out amongst the bushes +and rocks in the direction of the forest indicated by his companion, +conscious the next minute, as he glanced back in turning a block of +stone, that Punch was imitating his tactics, carrying his musket at the +trail and bending low as he ran. + +"Keep your head down, Punch," he said softly, as the boy raced up +alongside. "We can't see them, so they can't see us." + +"Don't talk--run," whispered Punch. "That's right--round to your left. +Don't mind me if I hang back a bit. I am short-winded yet. I shall +follow you." + +For answer, Pen slackened pace, and let Punch pass him. + +"Whatcher doing?" whispered the boy. + +"You go first," replied Pen, "just as fast as you can. I will keep +close behind you." + +Punch uttered a low growl, but he did not stop to argue, and they ran on +and on, getting out of breath but lighter hearted, as they both felt +that every minute carried them nearer to safety, for the risky part +where the slope was all stone and low bush was nearly passed, the dense +patch of forest nearer at hand offering to them shelter so thick that, +once there, their enemies would have hard work to judge which direction +had been taken; and then all at once, when all danger seemed to be past, +there came a shout from behind, and then a shot. + +"Stoop! Stoop, Punch! More to the left!" + +"All right. Come on," was whispered back; and, as Punch bore in the +direction indicated by his comrade, there came shout after shout, shot +after shot, and the next minute, as the fugitives tore on heedless of +everything but their effort to reach the shelter in advance, it was +perfectly evident to them that the bullets fired were whizzing in their +direction. + +Twigs were cut and fell; there was the loud _spat, spat_ of the bullets +striking the rocks; and then, when they were almost within touch of the +dark shadows spread by the trees, there came a scattered volley, and +both lads went down heavily, disappearing from the sight of their +pursuers, who sent up a yell of triumph. + +"Punch," panted Pen, "not hurt?" + +The answer was a hoarse utterance, as the boy struggled to his feet and +then dropped again on all-fours. + +"No, no," he gasped. "Come on! come on! We are close there." + +Pen was breathing hard as he too followed his comrade's movements just +as if forced thereto by the natural instinct that prompted imitation; +but the moment he reached his feet he dropped down again heavily, and +then began to crawl awkwardly forward so that he might from time to time +catch a glimpse of Punch's retiring form. + +"Come on, come on!" kept reaching his ears; and then he felt dizzy and +sick at heart. + +It seemed to be growing dark all at once, but he set it down to the +closing-in of the overshadowing trees. And then minutes passed of +confusion, exertion, and a feeling as of suffocation consequent upon the +difficulty of catching his breath. + +Then at last--he could not tell how long after--Punch was whispering in +his ear as they lay side by side so close together that the boy's breath +came hot upon his cheek. + +"Oh, how slow you have been! But this 'ere will do--must do, for we can +get no farther. Why, you were worse than me. Hurt yourself when you +went down?" + +Pen was about to reply, when a French voice shouted, "Forward! Right +through the forest!" + +There was the trampling of feet, the crackling of dead twigs, and +Punch's hand gripped his companion's arm with painful force, as the two +lads lay breathless, with their faces buried in the thick covering of +past years' dead leaves, till the trampling died away and the fugitives +dared to raise their faces a little in the fight for breath. + + + +CHAPTER TWENTY ONE. + +HIDE-AND-SEEK. + +"Oh, I say," whispered Punch, in a half-suffocated tone, "my word! Talk +about near as a toucher! It's all right, comrade; but if I had held my +breath half a jiffy longer I should have gone off pop. Don't you call +this a game? Hide-and-seek and whoop is nothing to it! Garn with you, +you thick-headed old frog-soup eaters! Wait till I get my breath. I +want to laugh.--Can't hear 'em now; can you?" + +"No," said Pen faintly. "Will they come back?" + +"Not they," replied Punch chuckling. "Couldn't find the way again if +they tried. But we shall have to stay here now till it's dark. It +don't matter. I want to cool down and get my wind. I say, though, +catch your foot on a stone?" + +"No," replied Pen, breathing hard. + +"Thought you did. You did go down--quelch! What you breathing like +that for? You did get out of breath! Turn over on your back. There's +nobody to see us now. I say, isn't it nice and shady! Talk about a +hiding-place! Look at the beautiful great, long green leaves. Hooray! +Chestnuts. We have dropped just into the right place for foraging. +Wait a bit and we will creep right into the forest and make a little +fire, and have a roast. What? Oh, it's all right. They have gone +straight on and can't hear me. Here! I say: why, comrade, you did hurt +yourself when you went down. Here, what is it? Oh, I am sorry! Ain't +broke anything, have you?" + +"My leg, Punch--my leg," said Pen faintly. + +"Broke your leg, comrade?" cried the boy. + +"No, no," said Pen faintly; "not so bad as that. One of the bullets, I +think, scraped my leg when they fired." + +"Shot!" cried Punch in an excited voice full of agony. "Oh, comrade, +not you! Don't say that!" + +The lad talked fast, but he was acting all the time. Leaving his musket +amongst the leaves, he had crept to Pen's side, and was eagerly +examining his comrade's now helpless leg. + +"Can't help it," he whispered, as he searched for and drew out his +knife. "I will rip it down the seam, and we will sew it up again some +time." And then muttering to himself, "Scraped! It's a bad wound! We +must get the bullet out. No--no bullet here." And then, making use of +the little knowledge he had picked up, Punch tore off strips of cotton +from his own and his companion's garments, and tightly bandaged the +bleeding wound. + +"It's a bad job, comrade," he said cheerily; "but it might have been +worse if the Frenchies could shoot. There's no bones broke, and you are +not going to grumble; but I'd have given anything if it hadn't been your +turn now. Hurt much." + +"Quite enough, Punch," said Pen with a rather piteous smile. "It's +quite right; my turn now; but don't stop. You've stopped the bleeding, +so get on." + +"What say?" + +"Go on now," said Pen, "while there's a chance to escape. Those fellows +will be sure to come back this way, and you will lose your opportunity +if you wait." + +"Poor chap!" said Punch, as if speaking to himself, and he laid a hand +on Pen's wet forehead. "Look at that now! I have made a nasty mark; +but I couldn't help it, for there was no water here for a wash. But, +poor chap, he won't know. He's worse than I thought, though; talking +like that--quite off his head." + +"I am not, Punch, but you will send me off it if you go on like that. +Do as I tell you, boy. Escape while there's a chance." + +"He's quite queer," said Punch, "and getting worse; but I suppose I +can't do anything more." + +"No; you can do no more, so don't waste your chance of escape. It will +be horrible for you to be made prisoner again, so off with you while the +coast's clear. Do you hear me?" + +"Hear you! Yes, you needn't shout and tell the Johnnies that we are +hiding here." + +"No, no, of course not; it was very foolish, but the pain of the wound +and your obstinacy made me excited. Now then, shake hands, and, there's +a good fellow, go." + +"Likely!" said Punch, wiping the pain-drops from Pen's face. + +"What do you mean by that?" said Pen angrily. + +"What do I mean by what? You are a bit cracked like, or else you +wouldn't talk like this." + +"Not tell you to run while there's a chance?" + +"Not tell me to run like this when there's a chance!" replied Punch. +"Jigger the chance! So you just hold your tongue and lie quiet. +Sha'n't go! There." + +"But, Punch, don't be foolish, there's a good fellow." + +"No, I won't; and don't you be foolish. Pst! Hear that? They are +coming back." + +"There's time still," said Pen, lowering his voice. + +"Oh, is there? You just look here. Here they are, coming nearer and +nearer. Do you want them to come and take us both?" + +"No, no, no," whispered Pen. + +"Then just you hold your tongue," said Punch, nestling down close to his +comrade's side, for the rustle and tramp of many feet began to grow +nearer again; and as Punch lay upon his back with his eyes turned in the +direction of the approaching sound he soon after caught a glimpse or two +of sunlight flashed from the barrels of muskets far down the forest +aisles, as their bearers seemed to be coming right for where they lay. + +"Look here," said Punch softly, "they look as if they are coming +straight here; but there's a chance for us yet, so let's take it, and if +they don't find us--Mind, I didn't want you to be hit; but as you are, +and I suppose was to be, I am jolly glad of it, for it gives a fellow a +chance. And what's the good of me talking?" said the boy to himself +now. "He's gone right off, swoonded, as they call it. Poor old chap! +It does seem queer. But it might have been worse, as I said before. +Wanted me to run away, did you? Likely, wasn't it? Why, if I had run +it would have served me jolly well right if somebody had shot me down +again. Not likely, comrade! I mayn't be a man, but my father was a +British soldier, and that's what's the matter with me." + +Punch lay talking to himself, but not loudly enough to startle a bird +which came flitting from tree to tree in advance of the approaching +soldiers, and checked its flight in one of the low branches of a great +overhanging chestnut, and then kept on changing its position as it +peered down at the two recumbent figures, its movements startling the +bugler, who now began in a whisper to address the bird. + +"Here," he said, "what game do you call that? You don't mean to say you +have come here like this to show the Johnny Crapauds where we are, so +that they may take us prisoners? No, I thought not. It wouldn't be +fair, and I don't suppose they have even seen you; but it did look like +it. Here they come, though, and in another minute they will see us, +and--Oh, poor Gray! It will be bad for him, poor chap; and--No, they +don't. They are wheeling off to the left; but if they look this way +they must see us, and if they had been English lads that's just what +they would have done. Why, they couldn't help seeing us--a set of +bat-eyed bull-frogs; that's what I call them. Yah! Go on home! I +don't think much of you. Now then, they are not coming here, and I +don't care where they go as long as they don't find us. Now, what's +next to be done? What I want is another goat-herd's hut, so as I can +carry my poor old comrade into shelter. Now, where is it to be found? +I don't know, but it's got to be done; and ain't it rum that my poor old +mate here should have his dose, and me have to play the nurse twice +over!" + + + +CHAPTER TWENTY TWO. + +"UNLUCKY BEGGARS." + +"If one wasn't in such trouble," said Punch to himself, as he lay in the +growing darkness beneath the great chestnut-tree, "one would have time +to think what a beautiful country this is. But of all the unlucky +beggars that ever lived, Private Pen Gray and Bugler Bob Punchard is +about the two worst. Only think of it: we had just got out of all that +trouble with my wound and Gray's fever, then he gets hit and I got to +nurse him all over again. Well, that's all clear enough.--How are you +now, comrade?" he said aloud, as after cautiously gazing round in search +of danger, he raised his head and bent over his wounded companion. + +There was no reply, and Punch went on softly, "It's my turn now to say +what you said to me. Sleepy, are you? Well, go on, and have plenty of +it. It's the best thing for you. What did you say? Nature sets to +work to mend you again? No, he didn't. I forget now, but that's what +he meant. Now, I wonder whether it's safe for me to go away and leave +him. No, of course it isn't, for I may tumble up against the French, +who will make me a prisoner, and I sha'n't be able to make them +understand that my comrade is lying wounded under this tree, and if I +could I don't want to. That's one thing. Another is that if I start +off and leave him here I sha'n't be able to find him again. Then, what +am I going for? To try and find water, for my throat's like sand, and +something to eat better than these chestnuts, for I don't believe they +are anything like ripe. Oh dear! This is a rum start altogether. I +don't know what to do. This is coming to the wars, and no mistake! +There never was really such unlucky chaps as we are. It will be dark +before long. Then I shall seem to be quite alone. To be all alone here +in a great wood like this is enough to make any fellow feel scared. +It's just the sort of place where the wolves will be. Well, if they do +come, we have got two muskets, and if it isn't too dark I will have two +wolves, and that will keep the others off as long as they have got the +ones I shot to eat.--Did you speak, comrade?" he whispered, as he once +more bent over Pen. "No, he's fast asleep. Wish I was, so as to forget +all about it, for the sun's quite down now, and I don't know how I am to +get through such a night as this. However, here goes to try. Ugh! How +cold it is turning!" + +The boy shivered as the wind that came down from the mountains seemed +bitterly cold to one who had been drenched in perspiration by the +exertion and excitement that he had passed through. + +"Poor old Private Gray!" he muttered. "He will be feeling it worse than +me if he don't turn feverish." + +The boy hesitated for a few moments, and then, stripping off his jacket, +he crept as close to his wounded companion as he could, and then +carefully spread the ragged uniform coat over their breasts. + +"Ought to have got his off too," he muttered, "but I mustn't. Must make +the best of it and try and go to sleep, keeping him warm. But no fellow +could go to sleep at a time like this." + +It was a rash assertion, for many minutes had not passed before the boy +was sleeping soundly the sleep of utter weariness and exhaustion; and +the next time he unclosed his eyes as he lay there upon his back, not +having moved since he lay down, it was to gaze wonderingly at the +beautiful play of morning light upon the long, glossy, dark-green leaves +over his head; for the sun had just risen and was bronzing the leaves +with ruddy gold. + +The birds were singing somewhere at the edge of the forest, and all +seemed so wonderful and strange that the boy muttered to himself as he +asked the question, "Where am I?" + +So deep had been his sleep that it seemed to be one great puzzle. + +He knew it was cold, and he wondered at that, for now and then he felt a +faint glow of warm sunshine. Then, like a flash, recollection came +back, and he turned his head to gaze at his companion, but only to +wrench himself away and roll over and over a yard or two, before sitting +up quickly, trembling violently. For he was chilled with horror by the +thought that his companion had passed away during the night. + +It was some minutes before he dared speak. "Pen!" he whispered, at +last. "Gray!" He waited, with the horror deepening, for there his +companion lay upon his back motionless, and though he strained his neck +towards him he could detect no movement of his breath, while his own +staring eyes began to grow dim, and the outstretched figure before him +looked misty and strange. + +"He's dead! He's dead!" groaned the poor fellow. "And me lying +sleeping there, never taking any notice of him when he called for help-- +for he must have called--and me pretending to be his comrade all the +time! 'Tain't how he treated me. Oh, Pen! Pen Gray, old chap! Speak +to me, if it's only just one word! Oh, if I had not laid down! I ought +to have stood up and watched him; but I did think it was to keep him +warm. No, you didn't!" he cried angrily, addressing himself. "You did +it to warm yourself." + +At last, recovering his nerve somewhat, the boy began to crawl on hands +and knees towards the motionless figure, till he was near enough to lay +his hand upon his companion's breast. Then twice over he stretched it +out slowly and cautiously, but only to snatch it back, till a feeling of +rage at his cowardice ran through him, and he softly lowered it down, +let it rest there for a few moments, and then with a thrill of joy he +exclaimed, "Why, it's all fancy! He is alive." + +"Yes, what? Who spoke?" + +"I did," cried Punch, springing to his feet. "Hooray, comrade! It's +all right. I woke up, and began to think--Pst! pst!" he whispered, as +he dropped down upon hands and knees again. For there was a rush of +feet, and a patch of undergrowth a short distance beyond the spread of +the great chestnut boughs was violently agitated. + +"Why, it's only goats," muttered Punch angrily. "I scared them by +jumping up. Wish I had got one of their young uns here." + +"What is it? Who's that? You, Punch?" + +"Yes, comrade; it's all right. But how are you? All right?" + +"Yes--no. I have been asleep and dreaming. What does it all mean, +Punch? What's the matter with my leg?" + +"Can't you recollect, comrade?" + +Pen was silent for a few moments, and then: "Yes," he said softly, "I +understand now. I was hurt. Why, it's morning! I haven't been to +sleep all the night, have I?" + +"Yes, comrade, and,"--Punch hesitated for a moment, and then with an +effort--"so have I." + +"I am glad of it," sighed Pen. + +Then he winced, for he had made an effort to rise, but sank back again, +feeling faint. + +"Help me, Punch," he said. + +"Whatcher want?" + +"To sit up with my back against the tree." + +Punch hesitated, and then obeyed. + +"Ah, that's better," sighed Pen. "I am not much hurt." + +"Oh yes, you are," said Punch, shaking his head. + +"Nonsense! I recollect all about it now. Can you get me some water?" + +"I'll try," was the reply; "but can you really sit up like that?" + +"Yes, of course. We shall be able to go on again soon." + +"Wha-at!" cried Punch. "Oh yes, I dare say! You can't go on. But I +know what I am going to do. If the French are gone I am going to hunt +round till I find one of them cottages. There must be one somewhere +about, because I just started some goats. And look there! Why, of +course there must be some people living near here." And the boy pointed +to a dozen or so of pigs busily rooting about amongst the dead leaves of +the forest, evidently searching for chestnuts and last year's acorns +shed by the evergreen oaks. + +"Now, look here," continued the boy. "Soon as I am sure that you can +sit up and wait, I am just off to look out for some place where I can +carry you." + +"I can sit up," replied Pen. "I have got a nasty wound that will take +some time to heal; but it's nothing to mind, Punch, for it's the sort of +thing that will get well without a doctor. But you must find shelter or +beg shelter for us till I can tramp again." + +"But I can carry yer, comrade." + +"A little way perhaps. There, don't stop to talk. Go and do the best +you can." + +"But is it safe to leave you?" protested Punch. + +"Yes; there is nothing to mind, unless some of the French fellows find +me." + +"That does it, then," said Punch sturdily. "I sha'n't go." + +"You must, I tell you." + +"I don't care; I ain't going to leave you." + +"Do you want me to starve, or perish with cold in the night." + +"Course I don't!" + +"Then do as I tell you." + +"But suppose the French come?" + +"Well, if they do we must chance it; but if you are careful in going and +coming I don't think they will find me; and I don't suppose you will be +long." + +"That I won't," cried the boy confidently. "Here goes, then--I am to do +it?" + +"Yes." + +"Then here's off." + +"No, don't do that," cried Pen. + +"Why not? Hadn't I better take the muskets?" + +"No. You are more likely to get help for me if you go without arms; +and, besides, Punch," added Pen, with a faint smile, "I might want the +muskets to defend myself against the wolves." + +"All right," replied the boy, replacing the two clumsy French pieces by +his comrade's side. "Keep up your spirits, old chap; I won't be long." + +The next minute the boy had plunged into the thicket-like outskirts of +the forest, where he stopped short to look back and mentally mark the +great chestnut-tree. + +"I shall know that," he said, "from ever so far off. It is easy to +'member by the trunk, which goes up twisted like a screw. Now then, +which way had I better go?" + +Punch had a look round as far as the density of the foliage would allow +him, and then gave his head a scratch. + +"Oh dear!" he muttered, "who's to know which way to go? It's regular +blind-man's buff. How many horses has your father got? Shut your eyes, +comrade. Now then. Three! What colour? Black, white, and grey. Turn +round three times and catch who you may." + +The boy, with his eyes tightly closed and his arms spread out on either +side, turned round the three times of the game, and then opened his eyes +and strode right away. + +"There can't be no better way than chancing it," he said. "But hold +hard! Where's my tree?" + +He was standing close to a beautifully shaped ilex, and for a few +moments he could not make out the great spiral-barked chestnut, till, +just as he began to fancy that he had lost his way at once, he caught +sight of its glossy bronzed leaves behind the greyish green ilex. + +"That's all right," he said. "Now then, here's luck." + +It was a bitter fight with grim giant despair as the boy tramped on, and +time after time, faint with hunger, suffering from misery, he was about +to throw himself down upon the earth, utterly broken in spirit, but he +fought on bravely. + +"I never saw such a country!" he muttered. "There ought to be plenty of +towns and villages and people, but it's all desert and stones and +scrubby trees. Any one would think that you couldn't walk anywhere +without finding something to eat, and there's nothing but the goats and +pigs, and as soon as they catch sight of you away they go." + +Over and over again he climbed hillsides to reach spots where he could +look down, in the full expectation of seeing some village or cluster of +huts. But it was all the same, there was nothing to be seen; till, +growing alarmed lest he should find that he had lost touch with his +landmarks, he began to retrace his steps in utter despair, but only to +drop down on his knees at last and bury his face in his hands, to give +way to the emotion that for a few moments he could not master. + +"There," he muttered, recovering himself, "I could not help it, but +there was no one to see. Just like a silly great gal. It is being +hungry, I suppose, and weak with my wound; and, my word, it does sting! +But there's some one at last!" + +The boy looked sharply round. + +"Why, you idgit!" he gasped, "you've lost him again. No, it's all +right," he cried, and he started off at a trot in the direction of a +short, plump-looking figure in rusty black, who, bent of head and book +in hand, was slowly descending a slope away to his right. + + + +CHAPTER TWENTY THREE. + +THE USE OF LATIN. + +"There! Ahoy!" shouted Punch, and the black figure slowly raised his +head and began to look round till he was gazing in quite the opposite +direction to where the boy was hurrying towards him, and Punch had a +full view of the stranger's back and a ruddy-brown roll of fat flesh +which seemed to be supporting a curious old hat, looking like a rusty +old stove-pipe, perched horizontally upon the wearer's head. + +"Hi! Not that way! Look this!" cried Punch as he closed up. "Here, I +say, where's the nearest village?" + +The stove-pipe turned slowly round, and Punch found himself face to face +with a plump-looking little man who slowly closed the book he carried +and tucked it inside his shabby gown. + +"Morning!" said Punch. + +The little man bowed slowly and with some show of dignity, and then +gazed sternly in the boy's face and waited. + +"I said good-morning, sir," said the boy; and then to himself, "what a +rum-looking little chap!--Can you tell me--" + +Punch got no further, for the little stranger shook his head, frowned +more sternly, and shrugged his shoulders as he made as if to take out +his book again. + +"I ain't a beggar, sir," cried the boy. "I only want you to--Oh, he +can't understand me!" he groaned. "Look here, can you understand this?" +And he commenced in dumb motions to give the stranger a difficult +problem to solve. + +But it proved to be not too difficult, for the little man smiled, nodded +his head, and imitated Punch's suggestive pantomime of eating and +drinking. Then, laying one hand upon the boy's shoulder, he pointed +with the other down the slope and tried to guide him in that direction. + +"All right," said Punch, nodding, "I understand. That's where you live; +but not yet. Come this way." And, catching the little stranger by the +arm, Punch pointed towards the forest and tried to draw his companion in +that direction. + +The plump little man shook his head and suggested that they should go in +the other direction. + +"Oh, a mercy me!" cried Punch excitedly. "Why, don't you understand? +Look here, sir, I can see what you are. You are a priest. I have seen +folks like you more than once. Now, just look here." + +The little man shrugged his shoulders again, shook his head, and then +looked compassionately at the boy. + +"That's better," said Punch. "Now, sir, do try and understand, there's +a good fellow. Just look here!" + +The boy tapped him on the shoulder now, and pointed towards the wood. + +"Now, look here, sir; it's like this." + +Punch made-believe to present a musket, after giving a sharp _click, +click_ with his tongue in imitation of the cocking of the piece, cried +_Bang_! and then gave a jump, clapped his hand to his right leg, +staggered, threw himself down, and then struggled up into a sitting +position, to sit up nursing his leg, which he made-believe to bind up +with a bandage. Then, holding out his hand to the little priest, he +caught hold of him, dragged himself up, but let himself fall back, +rolled over, and lay looking at him helplessly. + +"Understand that?" he cried, as he sprang to his feet again. "You must +be jolly stupid if you can't. Now then, look here, sir," he continued, +pointing and gesticulating with great energy, "my poor comrade is lying +over yonder under a tree, wounded and starving. Come and help me to +fetch him, there's a good old chap." + +The priest looked at him fixedly, and then, taking his cue from the boy, +he pointed in the direction Punch had indicated, nodded, clapped the boy +on the shoulder, and began to walk by his side. + +"There, I thought I could make you understand," cried Punch eagerly. +"But you might say something. Ain't deaf and dumb, are you?" + +The little priest shook his head, muttered to himself, and then, bending +down, he tapped his own leg, and looking questioningly in his would-be +guide's face, he began to limp. + +"Yes, yes, yes!" cried Punch excitedly. And, imitating his companion, +he bent down, tapped his own leg, then limped as if walking with the +greatest of difficulty and made-believe to sink down helplessly. + +"Good! I understand," said the little priest in Spanish. "Wounded. +Lead on." + +Punch held out his hand, which the little stranger took, and suffered +himself to be led in the direction of the great chestnut, shaking his +head and looking questioningly more than once at the boy, as Punch +hesitated and seemed to be in doubt, and ran here and there trying to +make out his bearings, successfully as it happened, for he caught sight +at last of the object of his search, hurried back to the little priest's +side, to stand panting and faint, passing his hand over his dripping +face, utterly exhausted. + +"Can't help it, sir," he said piteously. "I have been wounded. Just +let me get my breath, and then we will go on again. I am sure now. Oh, +I do wish I could make you understand better!" added the boy piteously. +"There's my poor comrade yonder, perhaps dying by this time, and me +turning like this!" + +For just then he reeled and would have fallen if the little priest had +not caught him by the arms and lowered him slowly down. + +"Thank you, sir," said Punch, with a sob half-choking his utterance. +"It's all on account of my wound, sir. There, I'm better now. Come +on." + +He tried to struggle up, but the little priest shook his head and +pressed him back. + +"Thank you, sir. It's very good of you; but I want to get on. He's +getting tired of waiting, you know." And Punch pointed excitedly in the +direction of the tree. + +The journey was continued soon after, with Punch's arm locked in that of +his new-found friend; and in due time Punch staggered through the trees +to where Pen lay, now meeting his gaze with a wild look of misery and +despair. + +"It's all right, comrade," cried Punch. "I have found somebody at last. +He must live somewhere near here, but I can't make him understand +anything, only that you were lying wounded. Did you think I had +forgotten you?" + +"No," said Pen faintly, "I never thought that." + +"Look here," said Punch, "say something to him in French. Tell him I +want to get you to a cottage, and say we are starving." + +Pen obeyed, and faintly muttered a few words in French; but the priest +shook his head. + +"_Frances_?" he said. + +"No, no," replied Pen. "_Ingles_." + +"Ah, _Ingles_!" said the priest, smiling; and he went down on one knee +to softly touch the rough bandage that was about the wounded leg. + +Then, to the surprise of both boys, he carefully raised Pen into a +sitting position, signed to Punch to hold him up, and then taking off +his curiously fashioned hat and hanging it upon a broken branch of the +tree, the boys saw that Nature had furnished him with the tonsure of the +priest without the barber's aid, and they had the opportunity now of +seeing that it was a pleasantly wrinkled rosy face, with a pair of +good-humoured-looking eyes that gazed up in theirs. + +"What's he going to do?" said Punch in a whisper. + +He comprehended the next minute, and eagerly lent his aid, for the +little priest, twisting up his gown and securing it round his waist, +began to prove himself a worthy descendant of the Good Samaritan, though +wanting in the ability to set the wounded traveller upon his own ass. + +Going down, though, upon one knee, he took hold of first one hand and +then the other, and, with Punch's assistance to his own natural +strength, he got Pen upon his back, hitching him up a little, and then a +little more, till he had drawn the wounded lad's arms across his chest. + +This done, he knelt there on one knee, panting, before drawing a deep +breath prior to rising with his burden. Then he tried to stand up, but +without success. + +He waited, then tried again; but once more without success, for the +weight was greater than he had anticipated. + +"Can't you manage it, sir?" said Punch. "Here, let me try." + +The little priest shook his head, but released one of Pen's hands and +caught hold of Punch by the shoulder. + +"Yes, I know, sir," cried Punch, and after waiting till their new friend +was ready, the boy brought his strength to bear as well, and the little +priest stood up, gave his load a hitch or two to balance it well upon +his shoulders, and then looked sharply at Punch and then at his hat. + +"Carry your hat, sir?" cried Punch excitedly, "of course I will. It +will be all right." + +The priest shook his head. + +"What? Oh, you mean stick it on, sir? All right, sir; I understand. +What, is that wrong? Oh, t'other side first! There you are, then, sir. +Will that do?" + +The priest shook his head, bent a little forward so as to well balance +his load, and then, setting one hand at liberty, he put his hat on +correctly, grasped both Pen's hands once more, and then began to march +out of the forest. + +"I'm blessed!" muttered Punch. "Didn't know they carried pickaback in +Spain. The little chap's as strong as a horse--pony, I mean.--Does it +hurt you much, comrade?" + +"Not much, Punch. Don't talk to me, though; only, thank goodness that +we have found a friend!" The little priest trudged sturdily on with his +load, taking a direction along the edge of the forest, which Punch noted +was different from any that he had traversed during his search, while at +the same time it became plain to him that their new friend was finding +his load rather hard work to carry, for first a little dew began to +appear; this dew gradually grew into tiny beads, the tiny beads ran into +drops, and the drops gathered together till they began to trickle and +run. + +At this point the little priest stopped short by the side of a rugged, +gnarled tree, and, bending a little lower, rested his hands upon a +horizontal branch. + +"Look here, sir," said Punch, "let me have a try now. I ain't up to it +much, but it would give you a rest." + +The priest shook his head, drew a deep breath, and trudged on again, +proving his strength to be greater than could have been imagined to +exist in such a little, plump, almost dwarf-like form, for with an +occasional rest he tramped on for the best part of an hour, till at last +he paused just at the edge of a deep slope, and struck off a little way +to his left to where a beaten track led to a good-sized cottage. + +"Why couldn't I find all this?" thought Punch, as he gazed down into a +valley dotted with huts, evidently a village fairly well inhabited. +"Why, it was as easy as easy, only I didn't know the way." + +"Ah!" ejaculated the priest, as he thrust open the door, stepped into a +very humbly furnished room, crossed at once to a rough pallet, and +gently lowered his burden upon the simple bed. "The saints be praised!" +he said in Latin; and the words and the new position had such a reviving +effect upon the wounded rifleman that he caught at one of the priest's +hands and held to it firmly. + +"God bless you for this!" he said, for unconsciously the priest's words +had been the opening of the door of communication between him and those +he had brought to his home; for though the words possessed a +pronunciation that was unfamiliar, the old Latin tongue recalled to Pen +years of study in the past, and he snatched at the opportunity of saying +a few words that the old man could understand. + +A pleasant smile beamed on the utterly wearied out old fellow's +countenance as he bent over Pen and patted him gently on the shoulder. + +"Good, good!" he said in Latin; and he set himself about the task of +supplying them with food. + +This was simple enough, consisting as it did of bread and herbs--just +such a repast as might have been expected from some ascetic holy man +dwelling in the mountains; but the herbs in this case were silvery-brown +skinned Spanish onions with salt. + +Then taking up a small earthen jar, he passed out of the dark room into +the sunshine; and as soon as the boys were alone Punch turned eagerly to +his companion. + +"Not worse, are you, comrade?" he said anxiously. + +"No, Punch, not worse. But has he gone to fetch water?" + +"Yes, I think so. But just you tell me: does your leg hurt you much?" + +"Quite enough," replied Pen, breaking off a portion of the bread and +placing a few fragments between his lips. "But don't talk to me now. I +am starving." + +"Yes, I know that," cried Punch; "and call this 'ere bread! It's all +solid crust, when it ought to be crumb for a chap like you. Look here, +you could eat one of these onions, couldn't you?" + +"No, no; not now. Go on; never mind me." + +"But I do mind you," cried the boy. "And how can I go on eating without +you? I say, though, what a chap you are! What was that you said to +him?" + +"Bless you for this!" + +"Yes, I guessed that was it; but how did you say it so as to make him +understand? I talked to him enough, but he couldn't make out a word of +what I said. Was that there Spanish?" + +"No, Punch; Latin." + +"Ah, you seem to know everything." + +At that moment a shadow fell athwart the door, and the speaker made a +dash at one of the muskets he had stood up against the wall on entering +the priest's cottage. + +"Oh, I beg your pardon, sir!" he cried hastily. "I didn't know it was +you." + +The old man smiled, and entered with the dripping jar which he had just +filled from a neighbouring spring, and held it towards the boy. + +"Me drink, sir? Thank ye, sir," cried Punch; and, taking the jar, he +was raising it towards his parched mouth, but before it was half-way +there he recollected himself, and carried it to the priest's pallet, +where he went down on his knees and held it to Pen's lips, so that the +poor fellow, who was burning with feverish pain, was able to drink long +and deeply. + +Pen was still drinking when Punch started and spilt a few drops of the +water as he turned hastily to look up at their host, who had laid a soft +brown hand upon his head, and was looking down at him with a pleasant +smile. + +"What did he do that for, comrade?" + +"I don't know," said Pen, drawing a deep breath, as he withdrew his lips +from the water. "Yes, I do," he added quickly. "He meant that he was +pleased because you let me drink first." + +"Course I did. I don't see anything to be pleased about in that. But +have a drop more, comrade. Quick, look sharp, before I go mad and +snatches it away from you, for I never felt like this before." + +"Go on then now, Punch." + +"But--" + +"Go on then now; I can wait." + +"Ah, then!" ejaculated the boy, with a deep sigh that was almost a +groan; and with trembling hands he held the jar to his lips and drank, +and recovered his breath and drank again as if it was impossible to +satisfy his burning thirst. + +Then recovering himself, he held the jar against Pen's lips. + +"Talk about wine," he said; "why, it ain't in it! I don't wonder that +he looks so fat and happy, though he is dressed up like an old +scarecrow. Fancy living here with a pump of water like this close at +hand!--Had enough now?--That's right. Now you go on breaking off bits +of that bread and dipping it in the water while I cuts up one of these." + +He took his knife from his pocket and began to peel one of the onions, +when their host placed the little vessel of salt close to his hand. + +"Thank you, sir," cried Punch. "You are a real gentleman." + +The priest smiled and nodded, and watched the two lads as Pen took an +earthenware bowl that their host placed close to his hand after +half-filling it with water so that he could steep the bread, while Punch +deftly peeled one of the onions, not scrupling about littering the +floor, and then proceeded to quarter it and then divide the segments +again, dipping one in the salt and placing it between his wounded +companion's lips. + +"Good! good!" said the priest again, smiling with satisfaction, and +laying his hand once more upon Punch's head. "_Bonum! bonum_!" + +"Bone 'em!" said Punch. "Why, he give it to me!" + +"He means it was good, Punch," said Pen, smiling. + +"Good! Yes," cried the boy, crunching up one of the savoury pieces of +vegetable. "That's what he means, is it? Thought he meant I had stolen +it.--_Bonum_, eh, sir? I should just think it is! Wants a bit more +salt; but my word, it's fine! Have a bit more, comrade. You eat while +there's a chance. Never mind me. I can keep both of us going. Talk +about a dinner or a supper; I could keep on till dark! Only wish, +though, I'd got one of their Spanish shillings to pay for it; but those +French beggars took care of them for me. I can give him my knife, +though; and I will too, as soon as I have done with it. How do you feel +now, comrade?" + +"Better, Punch, better," replied Pen. "Thank you," he continued, as his +companion broke off more bread for him and then began to peel another +onion. "But you are paying more attention to me than you are to +yourself." + +"Course I am, comrade. Didn't you pay more attention to me when I was +wounded?" + +Then turning to the priest, he pointed to the bread with his knife, and +then tapped the onion he had begun to quarter with the blade. + +"Splendid, sir," he said, smiling. "_Bonum! bonum_!" + +The priest nodded, and then rose from where he had been seated watching +the boys and walked through the open door, to stand just outside +sweeping the scattered houses of the little village with his eyes, and +remaining there, so as to leave his two guests to themselves. + +"You are beginning to get a bit better, comrade?" asked Punch anxiously. + +"Yes, Punch, yes," was the reply. + +"So am I. Feel as if I am growing as strong as a horse again. Why, +comrade, it was worth getting as hungry, thirsty, and tired as that, so +as to enjoy such a meal. I don't mean speaking for you, because I know +you must be feeling that gnaw, gnaw, grinding pain in your wound. But +do go on eating, and when you have had enough you shut-up shop and go +off to sleep. Then I will ask that old chap to give me a bit of rag and +let me wash and tie up your wound. I say, comrade, I hope he didn't see +me laugh at him. Did you?" + +"See you laugh at him? No. Did you?" + +"Yes; couldn't help it, when he was carrying you, bent down like he was, +with that queer shako of his. When I was behind he looked something +like a bear, and I couldn't help having a good grin. Mum, though; here +he comes." + +The old priest now came slowly in and stood watching the two lads, who +hurriedly finished their meal. + +"Stand up, Punch," said Pen. + +"What for? I was just going to clear away." + +"Stand up, I tell you!" + +"All right;" and the boy rose immediately, staring hard at his +companion, as Pen, with a quiver of emotion in his utterance, laid his +hand over the remains of the black-bread, and said, gazing hard at the +old priest the while, "_Benedictus, benedicat_. Amen." + +"Ah!" said the priest, with a long-drawn breath of satisfaction; +"_Benedictus, benedicat_ Amen." + +Then, taking a step towards them, he laid his hand upon the heads of his +two guests in turn and said a few words in an undertone. Next, pointing +to the rough pallet-bed, he signed to Punch that he should lie down +beside his companion. + +"What, take a snooze there, sir?" said Punch. "Thank you, sir. But not +yet.--You tell him in your Latin stuff, comrade, that I want to do a bit +of doctoring first." + +"I'll try," said Pen wearily, already half-asleep; when, to the surprise +of both, the old man went outside and returned with a little wooden tub +of water which he brought to the bedside, and then, in spite of a +half-hearted protestation on the part of Punch, he proceeded to +carefully attend to the wound. + +"Well, it's very good of you, sir," said the boy at last, after doing +his best to help, "and I wish I could make you understand what I say. +But you have done it a deal better than I could have done, and I am sure +if my comrade could have kept himself awake he would be ready enough to +say something in Latin that would mean you are a trump, and he's very +much obliged. But, you see, all I know, sir, about Latin--" + +"Latin!" said the old priest, beaming upon him with wondering eyes. + +"Yes, sir--Latin, sir, as I learnt of him;" and then, pointing to the +carefully bandaged limb, "_bonum_, sir; _bonum_!" + +The priest nodded, as he pointed to the pallet, where there was room for +Punch to lie down by his sleeping companion; but the boy shook his head. + +"No, sir," he said, "that's your roost; I do know that," And, before his +host could interfere, the boy placed one musket within reach of Pen's +hand, the other beside the door, across which he stretched himself. + +It was now nearly dark, and after placing his little home in something +like order, the old man turned to where Punch had been resting upon one +arm a few minutes before, watching his movements, but was now prone upon +the beaten-earth floor fast asleep, with a look of restfulness upon his +young, sunburnt countenance. + +The old man stepped carefully across him, to stand outside peering +through the evening gloom down into the silent village before, satisfied +and content, he turned back into the hut, closing the door carefully +after him, placing across it a heavy oaken bar, before stepping back +across Punch, to stand in the middle of the floor deep in thought. + +Then his hand began to move, from force of habit, searching for and +bringing out from beneath his gown a little, worn snuff-box, which +squeaked faintly as he turned the lid and refreshed himself with two +pinches of its brown contents. + +This was done very slowly and deliberately in the semi-darkness, and +finally the box was replaced and a few grains of the dust flicked away. + +"Ah!" ejaculated the old man with a long-drawn sigh, as he looked from +one to the other of his guests. "English," he muttered. "Soldiers, but +friends and defenders against the French. English--heretics! But," he +added softly, as if recalling something that had passed, "_Benedictus, +benedicat_. Amen!" + +Then, crossing softly to one corner of the room, he drew open what +seemed to be the door of a cupboard; but it was too dark to show that in +place of staircase there was a broad step-ladder. + +This the old man ascended, and directly after the ill-fitting boards +which formed the ceiling of his humble living-room creaked as he stepped +upon them, and then there was a faint rustling as if he were removing +leaves and stems of the Indian corn that was laid in company with other +stores in what was undoubtedly a little loft, whose air was heavy with +various odours suggesting the presence of vegetables and fruit. + +The oaken boards creaked once more as if the old man was stretching +himself upon them with a sigh of weariness and satisfaction. + +"Amen!" he said softly, and directly after a ray of light shot across +the place, coming through the wooden bars in the gable of the sloping +roof, for the moon had just risen over the shoulder of the mountain to +light up the valley beneath, where the priest's hut clung to its rocky +wall; to light up, too, the little loft and its contents, and, above +all, the features of the sleeping man, gentle-looking in their repose. +And could the lads he had befriended have gazed upon him then they would +have seen nothing that appeared grotesque. + + + +CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR. + +THROUGH A KNOT-HOLE. + +"Yes, what is it?" cried Pen, starting up on the bed at a touch from his +companion, who had laid his hand gently on the sleeping lad's forehead, +and then sinking back again with a faint ejaculation of pain. + +"Don't be scared, comrade; it's only me. Does it hurt you?" + +"Yes, my leg's horribly stiff and painful." + +"Poor chap! Never mind. I will bathe it and dress it by-and-by if that +old priest don't do it. When you jumped up like that I thought you +fancied it was the French coming." + +"I did, Punch," said Pen with a faint smile. "I seem to have been +dreaming all night that they were after us, and I could not get away +because my leg hurt me so." + +"Then lie down again," said Punch. "Things ain't so bad as that. But, +I say, comrade, I can't help it; I am as bad as ever again." + +"Bad! Your wound?" + +"No, no; that's getting all right. But that old chap seems to have shut +us up here and gone. Didn't happen to see, did you, where he put the +bread and onions? I am quite hollow inside." + +"No, Punch. I fell asleep, and I can't recollect how or when." + +"That's a pity, 'cause I know we should be welcome, and I can't make out +where he put the forage when he cleared away." + +It was the sunrise of a bright morning, and the sounds of bleating goats +came plainly to the listeners' ears as the nimble animals were making +their way up the valley-side to their pasture. + +Then all at once came the sharp creak of a board, and Punch dashed at +his musket, caught it up, cocked it, and stood ready to use it in +defence of his companion. + +There was another creak or two, evidently from overhead, and as Punch +stood there on the alert, his brows knit and teeth clenched, Pen softly +stole his hand in the direction of his own musket and raised himself up +on the bed ready to help. + +Again there came a creak or two, a rustling in the corner of the room as +of some one descending from above, and, though invisible, the muzzles of +the two pieces were slowly lowered in the direction of the noise, till +with a crack the door in the corner was thrust inward and the little old +priest stood looking wonderingly from one to the other as he raised his +hand. + +It was as if this were a signal to disarm, when the two muskets were +hurriedly replaced, and Punch advanced towards the corner of the room, +offering to shake hands. + +The priest smiled, took the boy's fingers, and then, thrusting to the +door, he crossed to the bed, felt Pen's forehead, and afterwards pointed +to the wounded leg. + +The next minute he went to the door, removed the great bar, and admitted +the bright light and fresh air of the morning in company with the louder +bleating of the goats, which animals evidently came trotting up to the +old man as he stepped back to look searchingly round. Then, after +speaking kindly to them, he drove them away, returned into the room +directly after with water, and proceeded to busily attend to Pen's +wound. + +"That's good of him," said Punch petulantly, "and I am glad to see him +do it, comrade; but I wish he'd thought to attend to my wound too--I +mean, give me the chance to dress it myself with bread and onion +poultice. I don't know when I felt so hollow inside." + +But he had not long to wait, for, evidently well satisfied with the +state of Pen's injury, the priest finished attending to him as tenderly +as if his touch were that of a woman, and then Punch was at rest, for +the old man placed the last night's simple fare before them, signed to +them to eat, and, leaving them to themselves, went outside again, to +sweep the valley below with a long and scrutinising gaze. + +Twice over during the next two days Pen made an effort to rise, telling +his companion when they were alone that if he had a stick he thought he +could manage to limp along a short distance at a time, for it was very +evident that the old man, their host, was uneasy in his own mind about +their presence. + +"He evidently wants to get rid of us, Punch." + +"Think so?" said the boy. + +"Yes. See how he keeps fidgeting in and out to go on looking round to +see if anybody's coming." + +"Yes, I have noticed that," said Punch. "He thinks the French are +coming after us, and that he will get into trouble for keeping us here." + +"Yes; it's plain enough, so let's go." + +"But you can't, comrade." + +"Yes, I can." + +"Not without making your wound worse. That's what you would have said +to me." + +"Then I must make it worse," said Pen angrily. "Next time he comes in +I'll try to make him explain which way we ought to go to find some of +our people." + +"Well, we can only try," replied Punch, "for 'tain't nice living on +anybody when you can't pay, and I do feel ashamed to eat as I do without +being able to find money for it. 'Tain't as if he was an enemy. I'd +let him see then." + +"Go and open the door, Punch, and let the fresh air in. The sun does +make this place so hot!" + +"Can't, comrade." + +"Why not?" + +"I did try while you was asleep; but he's locked us in." + +"Nonsense! He fastens the door with that big bar, and there it is +standing up by the side." + +"Yes, but there's another one outside somewhere, for I tried, and the +door won't move. I think he's gone to tell somebody we are here, and he +has shut us up so that we sha'n't get away while he's gone." + +"No, no," said Pen impatiently. "The old man means well to us; I am +sure of that." + +"That's what I keep thinking, comrade; but then I keep thinking, too, +that he's going to get something given him for taking two prisoners to +give up to the French." + +"Nonsense! It is cowardly and ungenerous to think so." + +"Then what's he been gone such a long time for? It's hours since he +went away and shut us in." + +"Hours?" + +"Yes; you don't know, because you sleep so much." + +"Well, I don't believe he'd betray us. The old man's too good and +generous for that." + +"Then, why has he made prisoners of us?" said Punch sourly. "Why has he +shut us up?" + +"To keep anybody else from coming in," said Pen decisively. "What time +can it be now?" + +"Getting on towards sunset. Pst! Here he comes--or somebody else." + +All doubts as to who it was were put an end to the next minute, for the +familiar step of the old priest approached the door. They plainly heard +what seemed to be another bar removed, and the old man stood before them +with a big basket on his arm, and remained looking back as if to see +whether he had been followed. + +Then, apparently satisfied, he came in, closed the door, and smilingly +placed the contents of the basket before them. + +He had evidently been some distance, and looked hot and weary; but he +was quite ready to listen to Pen's lame efforts to make known his +desires that they should now say good-bye, and, with his help as to +direction, continue their journey. + +The little man stood up smiling before Pen, listening patiently to the +lad's blundering Latin, probably not understanding half, and only +replying with a word or two from time to time, these words from their +pronunciation puzzling Pen in turn; but it was evident to Punch, the +listener, that on the whole a mutual understanding was arrived at, for +all at once the priest offered Pen his arm, and as the lad took it he +helped him to walk across the room and back to the pallet, where he +pressed him back so that he sat down in spite of himself, when the old +man patted him on the shoulder, smiling gently, and then going down on +one knee passed his hand softly over the wound, and, looking up, shook +his head sadly. + +"What does he mean by that, Punch?" said Pen excitedly, as he sat, +looking pinched of face and half-wild with excitement. + +"It means, comrade, that you ain't fit to go on the march. That's what +he means; I can make him out. He is saying as you must give it up, and +I don't think now as he means any harm.--I say, you don't, do you, old +chap?" he continued, turning sharply on the priest. + +It seemed as if their host comprehended the boy's words, for he patted +Punch on the shoulder, smiling, and pointed to the basket, which he +opened and displayed its contents. + +Punch only caught a glimpse thereof; but he saw that there were bread +and onions and goat's-milk cheese before he turned sharply round, +startled by a quick tapping at the closed door. + +It was not only he who was startled, for the priest turned sharply and +hurried to the door. + +"Oh, comrade," cried Punch in an excited whisper, "don't say that he's +against us after all!" + +But with the sturdy boy it was a word and a blow, for he made for his +loaded musket and caught it up. + +"Hist!" ejaculated the priest, turning upon him and raising one hand. + +"Oh, I don't care for that," whispered Punch, "and I don't mind what you +are. If you sold us to the enemy you shall have the first shot." + +The priest shook his hand at him as if to bid him be silent; and then, +placing his lips close to the door, he said something in Spanish, and +listened to a reply that came in a hurried voice. + +"Ah!" ejaculated the priest; and then he whispered again. + +The next minute he was busy barring the closed door; and this done, he +turned to the boys, to cross the room and open wide the cupboard-like +door in the corner. Then, returning to Pen, he helped him to rise +again, guided his halting steps, and half-carrying him to the step-like +ladder urged him with a word or two to climb up. + +"What does he mean, comrade?" whispered Punch. + +"He means there's somebody coming, and we are to go upstairs." + +"Let's stop here, comrade, and fight it out." + +"No, he means well," replied Pen; and, making a brave effort, he began +to climb the ladder, pulling himself up, but panting heavily the while +and drawing his breath with pain. + +As soon as the old man saw that he was being obeyed he turned to Punch, +caught up Pen's musket, and signed to the boy to follow him. + +"Well, you can't mean to give us up," said Punch excitedly, "or you +wouldn't want me to keep my gun and his." + +Disposition to resist passed away the next moment, for the old man +pressed the second musket into his hand and urged him towards the door. + +"Can you get up, comrade?" whispered Punch, who was now all excited +action. + +"Yes," came in a hoarse whisper, and a loud creak came from the ceiling. + +"Ketch hold of these guns then. He wants me to bring the +forage-basket.--Got 'em?" he continued, as he placed the two pieces +together and held them up against the ladder. + +"_Bonum_!" ejaculated the priest, who stood close up, as the two muskets +were drawn upwards and disappeared. + +"Right, sir," said Punch in answer, and he took hold of the basket, +raised it above his head, took a step or two, then whispered, "Basket! +Got it, comrade?" + +"Yes," And it was drawn up after the muskets, the boards overhead +creaking loudly the while. + +"Anything else, master?--What, take this 'ere jar of water? Right! Of +course! Here, comrade, you must look out now. Lean down and catch hold +of the jar; and take care as you don't slop it over." + +"_Presto_!" whispered the priest. + +"Hi, presto!" muttered Punch. "That's what the conjuror said," he +continued to himself, "and it means, `Look sharp!' Got it, comrade?" + +"Yes," came in Pen's eager whisper. + +"Oh, I say," muttered Punch, "I don't want my face washed!" + +"_Bonum! Presto_!" whispered the priest, as Punch shrank back with his +face dripping; and, pressing the boy into the opening, he closed the +door upon him and then hurried to the cottage entrance, took down the +bar, throw the door wide, and then began slowly to strike a light, after +placing a lamp upon the rough table. + +By this time Punch had reached the little loft-like chamber, where Pen +was lying beside the water-vessel. + +"What game's this, comrade?" he whispered, breathless with his +exertions. + +"Hist! Hist!" came from below. + +"It's all very fine," muttered Punch to himself; and he changed his +position, with the result that the boards upon which he knelt creaked +once more. + +"Hist! Hist!" came again from below. + +"Oh, all right then. I hear you," muttered the boy; and he cautiously +drew himself to where he could place his eye to a large hole from which +a knot in the plank had fallen out, so that he could now see what was +going on below. + +"Here, this caps me," he said to himself. "I don't want to think he's a +bad un, but he's took down the bar and shoved the door wide-open. It +don't mean, do it, that he's sent for some one to come and take us? No, +or he wouldn't have given us our guns." + +_Nick, nick, nick, nick_, went the flint against the steel; and the boy +watched the sparks flying till one of them seemed to settle lightly in +the priest's tinder-box, and the next minute that single spark began to +glow as the old man deliberately breathed upon it till the tinder grew +plain before the watcher's eyes, and the shape of the old man's bald +head, with its roll of fat across the back of the neck, stood out like a +silhouette. + +Then there was a rustling sound, and the boy saw the point of a match +applied, and marked that that point was formed of pale yellow brimstone, +which began to turn of a lambent blue as it melted and quivered, and +anon grew a flame-colour as the burning mineral fired the match. + +A deep, heavy breath as of relief rose now through the floor as the old +man applied the burning match to the wick of his oil-lamp, and Punch +drew back from the knot-hole, for the loft was dimly lit up by the rays +which came through the cracks of the badly laid floor, so that it seemed +to him as if this could be no hiding-place, for any one in the room +below must for certain be aware of the presence of any one in the loft. + +In spite of himself, Punch started and extended his hand to catch at his +comrade's arm, for he could see him plainly, though dimly, lying with +the muskets on one side, the basket and jar of water upon the other, +while half-behind him, where he himself lay, there was the black +trap-like opening through which he had climbed. + +The boy's was a very slight movement, but it was sufficient to make a +board creak, and a warning "Hist!" came once more from below; while, as +he looked downward, the boy found that he could see what the old man was +doing, as he drew his lamp across the rough table and bent over a little +open book, while he began muttering softly, half-aloud, as he read from +his Book of Hours. + +Punch softly pressed his comrade's arm, and then there was a slight +movement and the pressure was returned. + +"Wonder whether he can see too," thought Punch; and then in spite of +himself he started, and his breath seemed to come thick and short, for +plainly from a short distance off came the unmistakable tramp of +marching men. + +"Then he has sold us after all," thought the boy, and by slow degrees he +strained himself over so that he could look through the knot-hole again. +To his great surprise the priest had not stirred, but was bending over +his book, and his muttered words rose softly to the boy's ear, while the +old man seemed to be in profound ignorance of the approaching steps. + + + +CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE. + +IN THE NIGHT. + +Nearer and nearer came the sound of marching, and it was all Punch could +do to keep from rising to his knees and changing his position; but he +mastered himself into a state of content by sending and receiving +signals with his companion, each giving and taking a long, firm +pressure, as at last the invisible body of approaching men reached the +cottage door, and an authoritative voice uttered the sharp command, +"_Halte_!" + +Punch's eye was now glued to the hole. He felt that if anybody looked +up he would be sure to see it glittering in the lamplight; but the +fascination to learn what was to be their fate was too strong to be +resisted. + +From his coign of vantage he could command the doorway and the legs of a +small detachment of men, two of whom separated themselves and came full +into sight, one being an officer, from the sword he bore, the other a +rough, clumsy-looking peasant. And now for the first time the little +priest appeared to be aware of the presence of strangers, for he slowly +lowered the hand which held the book, raised his head, and seemed to be +looking wonderingly at his visitors. + +"Ah!" he said, as if just awakened from his studies; and he uttered some +words, which sounded like a question, to the peasant, who made a rough +obeisance and replied in apologetic tones, as if making an excuse for +his presence there. + +And now the officer uttered an impatient ejaculation and took another +step into the room, saying in French, "I am sorry to interrupt your +devotions, father; but this fellow tells me that he saw a couple of our +English prisoners take refuge here." + +"I do not speak French, my son," replied the old man calmly. + +"Bah! I forgot," ejaculated the officer; and then in a halting way he +stumbled through the same sentence in a very bad translation as he +rendered it into Spanish. + +"Ah!" said the old man, rising slowly; and Punch saw him look as if +wonderingly at the rough peasant, who seemed to shrink back, +half-startled, from the priest's stern gaze. + +There was a few moments' silence, during which the two fugitives +clutched each other's hands so tightly that Punch's nerves literally +quivered as he listened for the sharp cracking of the boards, which he +seemed to know must betray them to their pursuers. + +But no sound came; and, as the perspiration stood out in big drops upon +his face in the close heat of the little loft, both he and his companion +could feel the horrible tickling sensation of the beads joining together +and trickling down their necks. + +Then after what seemed to be quite an interval, the old man's voice +arose in deep, stern tones, as he exclaimed, "What lie is this, my son, +that you have uttered to these strangers?" + +"I--I, father--" faltered the man, shrinking back a step and dropping +the soft cap he was turning in his hands upon the beaten floor, and then +stooping hastily to snatch it up again--"I--father--I--" + +"I say, what lie is this you have told these strangers for the sake of +gaining a few accursed pieces of silver? Go, before I--Ah!" For there +was a quick movement on the part of the peasant, and he dashed out of +the door. + +"_Halte_!" yelled the French officer, following the peasant outside; and +then, giving a sharp command, the scattered reports of some half-dozen +muskets rang out on the night-air, the two fugitives starting as at each +shot the flash of the musket lit up the loft where they lay. Then a +short question or two, and their replies came through the open doorway, +and it became evident to the listeners that the peasant had escaped. + +"Bah!" ejaculated the officer, as Punch saw him stride through the +doorway into the room again. "Look here, father," he said in his bad +Spanish, "I paid this scoundrel to guide me to the place where he said +two Englishmen were in hiding; but he did not tell me it was with his +priest. As he has brought us here I must search." + +"For the escaped prisoners?" the old man said, drawing himself up with +dignity. "I do not speak your language, sir, but I think that is what +you mean. Can you repeat your words in Latin? You might make your +wishes more plain." + +"Latin? No, I have forgotten all that," said the officer impatiently in +more clumsy Spanish than before. "The English prisoners--my men must +search," And the fugitives, unable though they were to comprehend the +words, naturally grasped their meaning and held their breath till they +felt they must draw it again with a sound that would betray their +presence. + +Then, with a slight laugh, the old priest laid his book upon the table +and took up the smoky oil-lamp. As he did so, Punch could see his face +plainly, for it was lit up by the lamp, and the boy could perceive the +mocking mirth in his eyes as he raised it above his head with his left +hand, and walked slowly towards the door which covered the ladder-like +staircase; and then as Punch felt that all was over, the old man slowly +passed the light across and moved to the rough fireplace, and so on all +round the room, before raising the light above his head once more, and +with a comprehensive movement waving his right hand slowly round the +place as if to say, "You see there are no prisoners here." + +"Bah!" ejaculated the French officer, and, turning angrily, he marched +out through the open doorway. + +Punch was beginning to breathe again, but to his horror the officer +marched back into the room, for he had recollected himself. He was the +French gentleman still. + +"_Pardon, mon pere_!" he said sharply, keeping now to his own tongue. +"_Bon soir_!" + +Then, marching out again, he gave a short command, and, from where +Punch's eye was still glued to the opening, he saw the soldiers turn +rightabout face, disappear through the open doorway, and then, _beat, +beat, beat_, the sound of marching began again, this time to die slowly +away, and he looked and listened till the pressure of Pen's hand upon +his arm grew almost painful. But he did not wince, till a movement on +the part of the priest drew his attention to what was passing beneath; +and he saw him set down the lamp and cross to the door, which he closed +and barred, and then dropped upon his knees, as his head sank down upon +his clasped-together hands. + + + +CHAPTER TWENTY SIX. + +CONTRABANDISTAS. + +"Think they have gone, comrade?" whispered Punch, after they had +listened for some minutes, and the tramp of the French soldiers had +quite died away. + +"Yes; but speak low. He will come and tell us when he thinks it is +safe." + +"All right, I'll whisper; but I must talk. I can't bear it any longer, +I do feel so savage with myself." + +"Why, what about?" + +"To think about that old chap. I wanted to trust him, but I kept on +feeling that he was going to sell us; and all the time he's been doing +everything he could for us. But, I say, it was comic to see him +carrying you. Here, I mustn't talk about it, or I shall be bursting out +laughing." + +"Hush! Don't!" whispered Pen. + +"All right. But, I say, don't you think we might have a go at the prog? +There's all sorts of good things in that basket; and I want a drink of +water too. But you needn't have poured a lot of it down my back. I +know you couldn't help it, but it was horrid wet all the same." + +"Don't touch anything, Punch; and be quiet. He will be coming up soon, +I dare say." + +"Wish he'd come, then," said the boy wearily. "I say, how's your leg?" + +"Hurts," said Pen curtly. + +"Poor old chap! Can't you turn yourself round?" + +"No. It's worse when I try to move it." + +"That's bad; but, I say, you see now we couldn't have gone away unless I +carried you." + +"But it seems so unfair to be staying here," said Pen bitterly. "I +believe now I could limp along very slowly." + +"I don't," said Punch. "You see, those Frenchies have made up their +minds to catch us, and I believe if they caught sight of us creeping +along now they would let go at us again; and as we have had a bullet +apiece, we don't want any more." + +"Hist!" whispered Pen; "they think we are here still, and they are +coming back." + +"Nonsense! Fancy!" + +"Listen." + +"Oh, murder!" whispered Punch. "This is hard!" For he could distinctly +hear hurried steps approaching the cottage, and he placed his eye to the +knot-hole again to see what effect it was having upon the old man. But +he was so still as he crouched there in the lamplight that it seemed as +if he had dropped asleep, worn out by his efforts, till all at once the +footsteps ceased and there was a sharp tapping on the door, given in a +peculiar way, first a rap, then a pause, then two raps close together, +another pause, and then _rap, rap, rap_, quickly. + +The old man sprang to his feet, unbarred the door, and seized it to +throw it open. + +"It's all over, comrade," whispered Punch. "Well, let's fill our +pockets with the prog. I don't want to starve any more." + +He placed his eye to the knot-hole again, and then turned his head to +whisper to his companion. + +"'Tain't the Frenchmen," he said. "It's one of the Spanish chaps with a +red handkercher tied round his head, and him and the old priest is +friends, for they are a hugging one another. This chap has got a short +gun, and now he's lighting a cigarette at the lamp. Can you hear me?" + +"Yes; go on." + +"There's four more of them outside the door, and they have all got short +guns. One of them's holding one of them horse-donkeys. Oh, I say, +comrade!" continued the boy, as a quick whispering went on and the +aromatic, pungent odour of tobacco floated up between the boards. + +"What is it, Punch? Oh, go on--tell me! You can see, and I'm lying +here on my back and can make out nothing. What does it all mean?" + +"Well, I don't like to tell you, comrade?" whispered the boy huskily. + +"Oh yes; tell me. I can bear it." + +"Well, it seems to me, comrade, as we have got out of the frying-pan +into the fire." + +"Why, what do you mean?" + +"That we thought the old chap was going to sell us to the French when +all the time it was to some of those Spanish thieves, and it's them as +has come now to take us away.--Here, wait a minute." + +"I can't, Punch. I can't bear it." + +"I'm afraid you will have to, comrade--both on us--like Englishmen. But +if we are to be shot for furriners I should like it to have been as +soldiers, and by soldiers who know how to use their guns, and not by +Spanish what-do-you-call-'ems--robbers and thieves--with little short +blunderbusters." + +There was a few moments' pause, during which hurried talking went on. +Then a couple more fierce-looking Spaniards came in, saluted the priest, +lit cigarettes at the lamp, and propped the short carbines they carried +against the cottage-wall before joining in the conversation. + +"What are they doing now, Punch?" + +"Talking about shooting or something," whispered the boy, "and that old +ruffian's laughing and pointing up at the ceiling to tell them he has +got us safe. Oh, murder in Irish!" continued the boy. "He's took up +the lamp and he's showing them the way. Here, Private Gray, try and +pull yourself together and let's make a fight for it, if we only have a +shot apiece. They are coming up to fetch us now." + +Pen stretched out his hand in the dim loft to seize his musket, but he +could not reach it, while in his excitement the boy did not notice his +comrade's helplessness, but seized his own weapon and stood up ready as +the light and shadows danced in the gloomy loft, and prepared to give +the armed strangers a warm reception. + +And now the door at the foot of the ladder creaked and the light of the +lamp struck up as the old man began to ascend the few steps till he +could reach up, thrusting the lamp he carried before him, and placing it +upon the floor, pushing it farther along towards the two boys; and then, +drawing himself up, he lifted the light and held it so that those who +followed him could see their way. + +At that moment he caught sight of Punch's attitude, and a smile broke +out across his face. + +"No, no!" he said eagerly. "_Amigos! Contrabandistas_." + +"What does he mean by that, Pen?" + +"That they are friends." + +And the head of the first friend now appeared above the trap in the +shape of the first-comer, a handsome, swarthy-looking Spaniard, whose +dark eyes flashed as his face was lit up by the priest's lamp, which +shot the scarlet silk handkerchief about his head with hues of orange. + +"_Buenos Ingles, amigos_," he cried, as he noted the presented musket; +and then volubly he asked if either of them spoke French. + +"Yes," cried Pen eagerly; and the rest was easy, for the man went on in +that tongue: + +"My friend the priest tells me that you have had a narrow escape from +the French soldiers who had shot you down. But you are safe now. We +are friends to the English. Do you want to join your people?" + +"Yes, yes," cried Pen eagerly. "Can you help us? Are any of our +regiments near?" + +"Not very," replied the Spanish smuggler, "for the French are holding +nearly all the passes; but we will help you and get you up into the +mountains, where you will be safe with us. But our good friend the +_padre_ tells me that one of you is badly hurt, and he wants me to look +at your wound." + +"Oh, it's not very bad," said Pen warmly. + +"Ah, I must see," said the man, who had seated himself at the edge of +the opening up which he had come, and proceeded to light a fresh +cigarette. + +The next moment, as he began puffing away, he seemed to recollect +himself, and drew out a cigar, which he offered with a polite gesture to +the old priest. + +The old man set down the lamp which he had held for his visitor to light +his cigarette, and smiled as he shook his head. Then, thrusting a hand +into his gown, he took out his snuff-box, made the lid squeak loudly, +and proceeded to help himself to a bounteous pinch. + +"It is you who have the wound," continued the smuggler. "You are, I +suppose, an officer and a gentleman?" + +"No," said Pen, "only a common English soldier." + +"But you speak French like a gentleman. Ah, well, no matter. You are +wounded--fighting for my country against the brigand French, and we are +friends and brothers. I have had many a fight with them, my friend, and +I know what their bullets do, so that I perhaps can dress your wound +better than the _padre_--brave old man! He can cure our souls--eh, +father?" he added, in Spanish--"but I can cure bodies better than he, +sometimes, when the French bullets have not been too bad.--Now, father," +he added, "hold the lamp and let us see." + +The priest nodded as he took up the lamp again in answer to the request +made to him in his own tongue; and he now spoke a few words to the +smuggler which resulted in the picturesque-looking man shaking his head. + +"The good father," he said to Pen, "asks me if I think the French +soldiers will come back; but I think not. If they do we shall have +warning from my men, who are watching them, for we are expecting friends +to meet us here--friends who may come to-night, perhaps many nights +hence--for us to guide them through the passes." + +Then, drawing up his legs, he stepped into the loft and called down the +stairway to the men below. + +There was a short reply, and steps were heard as if the two men had +stepped out into the open. + +"Now, my friend," said the smuggler, as he went down on one knee and +leaned over Pen, whose hand he took, afterwards feeling his temples and +looking keenly into his eyes as the priest threw the light full in the +wounded lad's face. + +"Why," he said, "you are suffering from something else besides your +wound. My men will bring some wine. I see you have water here. You +are faint. There, let me place you more comfortably.--That's better. +I'll see to your wound soon.--And you, my friend," he continued, turning +to Punch, who started and shook his head. + +"No parly Frenchy," he said. + +"Never mind," continued the smuggler. "Your friend can.--Tell him to +eat some of the bread and fruit, and I will give him some of our grape +medicine as soon as my men bring the skin.--A good hearty draught would +do you good too, father," he added, turning to the old man and laying +his hand with an affectionate gesture upon the priest's arm. "You have +been working too hard, and must have had quite a scare. I am very glad +we have come." + +A deep-toned voice came now from the room below, the smuggler replied, +and there was a sound of ascending steps; then another of the smugglers +appeared at the opening in the floor, thrusting something so peculiar +and strange through the aperture that, as it subsided upon the edge in +the full light cast by the smoky lamp, Punch whispered: + +"Why, it's a raw kid, comrade, and I don't believe it's dead!" + +Pen laughed, and Punch's eyes dilated as he saw the smuggler, who was +standing with his head and shoulders in the opening, take what looked +like a drinking-horn from his breast and place it upon the floor; and +then it seemed to the boy that he untied a thong that was about one of +the kid's legs, and the next moment it appeared as if the animal had +begun to bleed, its vital juice trickling softly into the horn cup, for +it was his first acquaintance with a skin of rich Spanish wine. + +"There, my friend," said the smuggler, taking up the half-filled cup, +"they say this is bad for fever, but I never knew it do harm to a man +whose lifeblood had been drained. Drink: it will put some spirit in you +before I perhaps put you to a good deal of pain." And the next moment +he was holding the wine-cup to the wounded lad's lips. + +"There," said the smuggler at last, as he finished his self-imposed +task, "I think you have borne it bravely." + +"Oh, nonsense," said Pen quietly. "Surely a soldier should be able to +bear a little pain." + +"I suppose so," said his new surgeon; "but I am afraid that some of my +countrymen would have shouted aloud at what I have done to you. I know +some of my men have when I have tied them up after they have been +unlucky enough to get one of the French Guards' bullets in them. There +now, the best thing you can do is to go to sleep;" and, having +improvised a pillow for him with one of his follower's cloaks, the +Spaniard descended to the priest's room, where several of his men were +assembled; and after the priest had seen that Punch had been supplied +from the basket, he followed his friend to where the men were gathered, +leaving the boys in the semi-darkness, for he took down the lamp, whose +rays once more shone up through the knot-hole and between the +ill-fitting boards. + +"Feel better, comrade?" asked Punch. But there was no reply. "I say, +you aren't gone to sleep already, are you?" + +Still no answer, and, creeping closer, Punch passed his hand gently over +Pen's arm and touched his face; but this evoked no movement, only the +drawing and expiration of a deep breath which came warmly to the boy's +hand as he whispered: + +"Well, he must be better or he wouldn't have gone to sleep like that. +Don't think I could. And, my word, that chap did serve him out!" + +The low sound of voices from below now attracted the boy's attention; +and, turning to the knot-hole, he looked down into the priest's room to +see that it was nearly full of the dark, fierce-looking Spaniards, who +were listening to the old padre, whose face shone with animation, lit up +as it was by the lamp, while he talked earnestly to those who bent +forward to listen to his words. + +It was a picturesque scene, for the moon was now shining brightly, its +rays striking in through the open door and throwing up the figures of +several of the _contrabandistas_ for whom there was no room within the +cottage, but who pressed forward as if to listen to the priest's words. + +"Why, he must be preaching to them," said Punch to himself at last, "but +I can't understand a word. This Spanish seems queer stuff. What does +_el rey_ mean, I wonder. Dunno," he muttered, as he yawned drowsily. +"Seems queer that eating and drinking should make you sleepy. Well, I +ain't obliged to listen to what that old fellow says. Wonder whether +Private Gray knows what _el rey_ means? Better not ask him, though, now +he's asleep. Phew! It is hot up here! _Buzz, buzz, buzz_! What is he +talking about? Seems to make me sleepier to listen to him.--I say, not +awake, are you, comrade?" + +There was no reply, and soon after Punch's heavy breathing was heard in +addition to the low murmur of the priest's voice, for the boy too, worn +out with what he had gone through during the past hours, was fast +asleep. + + + +CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN. + +THE NEW FRIEND. + +Punch woke up with a start to find that it was broad daylight, for the +sun was up, the goats on the valley-side were bleating, and a loud +musical bell was giving forth its constantly iterated sounds. + +Punch looked down the knot-hole through which the bright morning rays +were streaming up as well as between the ill-fitting boards; but as far +as he could make out there was no one below, and he remained peering +down for some minutes, recalling all that had taken place overnight, +till, turning slightly, he caught sight of the basket of provisions. + +"It makes one feel hungry again," muttered the boy, and his hand was +stretched out to draw the basket to his side. "No, no," he continued, +pulling back his hand; "let's have fair-play.--Awake, comrade?--Fast +asleep. That looks well. My word, how I slept after that supper! Wish +he would wake up, though. Be no harm in filling up with water," And, +creeping softly to where the jar had been placed for safety, he took a +long, deep draught. "Ah!" he ejaculated, "that will keep the hungries +quiet for a bit;" and then he chuckled to himself as his eye wandered +about the loft, and he noted how the priest used it for a storeroom, one +of his chief stores being onions. "And so the French are holding the +country everywhere, are they? And we are to lie snug here for a bit, +and then that Spanish chap is going to show us the way to get to our +regiment again. Well, we have tumbled among friends at last; but I hope +we sha'n't have to lie here till all the fighting's done, for my comrade +and me owe the Frenchies something, and we should both like to get a +chance to pay it.--Here, I say, Private Gray, you might wake up now. +Water's only water, after all, and I want my breakfast. I shouldn't +mind if there was none, but it's aggravating to your inside to see it +lying there.--Hallo! There's somebody coming," for he heard voices from +somewhere outside. "That's the old father," muttered the boy. "Yes, +and that's that big Spanish chap. Didn't he look fine with his silk +handkercher round his head and his pistols in his scarf? I suppose he's +captain of the band. What did Gray say they were--smugglers? Why, they +couldn't be. Smugglers have vessels by the seaside. I do know that. +There's no seaside here up in the mountains. What have they got to +smuggle?" + +"Punch, you there?" came in a sharp whisper. + +"Yes," whispered back the boy. "All right. Wake up. Here's your +doctor coming to see to your wound." + +The next minute the voices sounded from the room below, and the +smuggler's voice was raised and he called up in French: + +"Are you awake there, my friends?" And upon receiving an answer in the +affirmative he began to ascend the step-ladder cautiously, and +apparently quite at home. As soon as he stood stooping in the loft he +drew back a rough shutter and admitted a little of the sunshine. + +"Good-morning!" he said. "How's the wound? Kept you awake all night?" + +Pen explained that he had only just woke up. + +"Well, that means you are getting better," said the smuggler; and the +boys scanned the speaker's handsome, manly-looking face. + +Just then fresh steps were heard upon the ladder, and the +pleasant-countenanced priest appeared, carefully bearing a large bowl of +water, and with a long strip of coarse linen hanging over his arm. + +He smilingly nodded at the two lads, and then knelt by the side of the +bowl and watched attentively while Pen's wound was dressed and carefully +bandaged with the coarse strip of linen, after which a few words passed +in Spanish between the priest and the smuggler, who directly after +addressed Pen. + +"He was asking me about getting you down to breakfast, but I tell him +that you will be better if you lie quite still for a bit, perhaps for a +few days, I don't think the French will come here again. They are more +likely to forget all about you, for they are always on the move; but you +could do no good if you came down, and I shall not stir for some days +yet, unless my friends come, and I don't expect they will. It would be +too risky. So you lie here patiently and give your wound a chance to +get well before I try to take you through the pass. Besides, your +friends are a long way off, and they will be sure to come nearer before +long. You can make yourself very comfortable here, can't you, and eat +and drink and sleep?" + +"But it is not fair to the father," said Pen, "and we have no money to +pay him for our lodging." + +"You Englishmen are brave fellows," said the smuggler with a merry +laugh. "You like to pay your way, while those French thieves plunder +and steal and ill-use every one they come near. Don't you make yourself +uncomfortable about that, my lad. As you hinted just now, the holy +father is poor, and it may seem to you hard that you should live upon +him; but you English are our friends, and so is the father. Make +yourselves quite comfortable. You are very welcome, and we are glad to +have you as our guests.--Eh, _padre mio_!" he continued, relapsing into +his own tongue. "They are quite welcome, are they not?" + +The priest nodded and smiled as he bent down and patted both the lads on +the shoulder, Punch contenting himself with what he did not understand, +for it seemed very friendly, while Pen took the hand that rested on his +shoulder and raised it to his lips. + +Then the old man slowly descended, and the smuggler turned and continued +talking pleasantly to Pen. + +"I have told him," he said, "that I am going to have breakfast with you +here, as my men have gone up to the mountains with the mules, and I +don't want to show myself and get a shot sent after me, for some of the +Frenchmen are down in the village still. Be quiet for a day or two, and +if my friends come before you are able to march we will get you on one +of my mules. Hallo!" he added, "the father's making a fire to cook us +some breakfast. I shouldn't wonder if he bakes us a cake and makes us a +cup of good fragrant coffee. He generally contents himself with bread +and herbs and a glass of water; but he knows my weaknesses--and I know +his," added the smuggler, laughing. "He never objects to a glass of +good wine." + +The smuggler's surmises were right, for before very long the old man +paid several visits to the loft, and ended by seating himself with the +others and partaking of a roughly prepared but excellent breakfast, +which included newly made cake, fried bacon and eggs, with a capital +bowl of coffee and goat's-milk. + +"Well, my friend," said the smuggler, turning to Punch, "have you made a +good meal?" + +Punch looked uncomfortable, gave his head a scratch, and frowned. + +"Tell him, comrade, I can't jabber French," he said. + +"He asks if you have made a good breakfast, Punch." + +"Tell him it's splendid." + +The wounded lad interpreted between them; while the smuggler now +addressed himself to his patient. + +"And you?" he said. "I suppose I may tell the father that his breakfast +was capital, and that you can make yourself happy here till you get +better?" + +"Yes; and tell him, please, that our only regret is that we cannot show +our gratitude more." + +"Tut, tut! There is no need. The father has helped you because you are +brave young Englishmen who are over here risking your lives for our +countrymen in trying to drive out the French invaders who have come down +like a swarm of locusts upon our land. You understand very well, I +suppose,"--continued the Spaniard, rolling up a cigarette and offering +it to Pen, who took it and waited while the smuggler rolled up another +for Punch and again another for himself before turning and taking a +smouldering brand of wood from the priest, who had fetched it from the +hearth below--"you understand very well why the French are here?" + +"Not very well," said Pen. "I am an English soldier here with my people +to fight against the French, who have placed a French king in your +country." + +"Yes," said the Spaniard, frowning, as he sent a curl of fragrant smoke +eddying towards the shutter-opening in the sloping roof, where as it +rose soft and grey it began to glow with gold as it reached the sunshine +that streamed across the little square; "they have thrust upon us +another of the usurper's kin, and this Napoleon has imprisoned our +lawful ruler in Valencay." + +"I didn't know all this," replied Pen; "but I like to hear." + +"Good!" said the smuggler, nodding and speaking eagerly. "And you are +an Englishman and fighting on our side. I know all this, and that your +Wellesley is a brave general who is only waiting his time to sweep our +enemies back to their own country. You are a friend who has suffered in +our cause, and I can confide in you. You will be glad to hear that the +prisoner has escaped." + +"Yes," said Pen, forgetting the pain of his wound for the time in the +interest of what he heard, while Punch yawned and did not seem happy +with his cigarette. "But what prisoner?" + +"The King, Ferdinand." + +Pen had never heard of any Ferdinand except one that he had read of in +Shakespeare; but he said softly, "I am glad." + +"Yes," said the smuggler, "and I and my friends are glad--glad that, +poor smugglers though we are, and no soldiers, we can be of service to +his Majesty. He has escaped from the French prison and is on his way to +the Pyrenees, where we can help him onward to Madrid. For we as +_contrabandistas_ know all the passes through the frontier; and I and my +followers are waiting till he reaches the appointed spot, where some of +our brothers will bring him on to meet us, who will be ready to guide +him and his friends farther on their way to the capital, or place them +in safety in one of our hiding-places, our stores, of which we have many +here in the mountains. He is long in coming, but he is on his way, and +the last news I heard is that he is hidden by my friends at one of our +_caches_ a score or so of leagues away. He may be here to-night if the +pass seems clear. It may be many nights; but he will come, and if the +French arrive--well, they will have to fight," said the smuggler, with a +smile; and he lightly tapped the butt of one of his pistols. "It is +hard for a king to have to steal away and hide; but every league he +passes through the mountains here he will find more friends; and we +shall try, some of us, to guide your English generals to where they can +strike at our French foes. Yes, my young friend," continued the +captain, rolling up a fresh cigarette, "and we shall serve our King well +in all this, and if some of us fall--well, it will be in a good cause, +and better than spending our lives in carrying smuggled goods--silks and +laces, _eau de vie_, cigars and tobacco duty free across these hills. +There, we are _contrabandistas_, and we are used to risking our lives, +for on either side of the mountains the Governments shoot us down. But +we are patriots all the same, and we are risking our lives for our King +just as if we were of the best. So get well, you two brave soldier +lads. I see you have your guns, and maybe, as we have helped you, we +may ask you to help us. You need not mind, for you will be fighting +against your enemies the French. Come, light up your cigarette again. +You must be tired of my long story." + +"Tired! No," said Pen. "I am glad to hear it, for I have often thought +and wondered why we English had come here to fight, and all I knew was +that Napoleon was conquering everywhere and trying to master the world." + +"Which he will never do," said the smuggler, laughing. "Strong as he +is, and masterful, he will never succeed, and you know why?" + +"No, I can't say that," replied Pen, wincing. + +"Then I will tell you. Because the more he conquers the more enemies he +makes, and nowhere friends. There, you are growing weary." + +"Oh no," cried Pen. "I shrank because I felt my wound a little more. I +am glad to hear all this." + +"But your friend--no?" said the _contrabandista_. + +"That's because he cannot understand what you say; but I shall tell him +all that you have said when we are alone, and then he will be as much +your friend as I am, and quite as ready to fight in your cause, though +he is a boy." + +"Good!" said the Spaniard. "And some day I shall put you both to the +proof." + + + +CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT. + +PUNCH PROVES STURDY. + +"Thank you," said Punch. "I didn't want to bother you, you know, +comrade, only you see I ain't like you--I don't know a dozen languages, +French and Latin, and all the rest of them; and when you get on talking +to that _contrabando_ chap it worries me. Seems as if you are saying +all sorts of things about me. He will keep looking at me all the time +he's talking. I've got to know a bit now that it's meant for you, but +he will keep fixing his eyes like a pair of gimlets, and screwing them +into me; and then he goes on talking, and it makes you feel +uncomfortable like. Now, you see, there was the other day, a week--no, +it was nine days--ago, when you said when he was telling you all about +the Spanish King coming here--" + +"Nine days ago, Punch! Nonsense! We can't have been here nine days." + +"Oh yes, we can. It's ten, because there was the day before, when he +came first and doctored your leg." + +"Well, you seem very sure about it; but I think you are wrong." + +"I ain't," said Punch sturdily. "Lookye here," and he thrust his hand +into his pocket and brought it out again full of little pebbles. + +"Well, what have they got to do with it?" + +"Everything. I puts a fresh one into my pocket every day we stops." + +"What for?" + +"To count up with. Each of those means two shillings that we owe the +old gentleman for our prog. Knowing what a gentleman you are in your +ideas, I says to myself you will want to pay him some day--a shilling +apiece a day; that's what I put it at, and that means we owe him a +pound; and if we are going to stop here much longer I must try another +dodge, especially if we are going on the march, for I don't want to go +tramping along with half a hundredweight of stones in my pocket." + +"You're a rum fellow, Punch," said Pen, smiling. + +"That's what my mother used to say; and I am glad of it. It does a +fellow good to see you burst out laughing. Why, I haven't seen you grin +like that not since the day when I went down with the bullet in my back. +Here, I know what I'll do. I'll chuck all these stones, and make a +scratch for every day on the stock of my musket. 'Tain't as if it was a +Bri'sh rifle and the sergeant coming round and giving you hooroar for +not keeping your arms in order. That would be a good way, wouldn't it, +because the musket-stock wouldn't weigh any heavier when you had done +than when you had begun." + +"Well, are you satisfied now, Punch, that he isn't talking about you?" + +"Well, you say he ain't, and that's enough; but I want to know, all the +same, why that there Spanish King don't come." + +"So does he. You saw how earnest he was yesterday when he came and +talked to me, after seeing to my leg, and telling me that he shouldn't +do any more to it." + +"Telled you that, did he? I am glad. And that means it's nearly well." + +"It means it's so far well that I am to exercise it all I can." + +"Glad of it. But you ought to have telled me. That is good news. But +how are you going to exercise it if we are under orders not to go +outside this place for fear of the people seeing us and splitting upon +the father?" + +"Yes, that is awkward, Punch." + +"Awkward! I call it more than awkward, for we did nearly get the poor +old chap into a bad scrape that first night. Tell you what, though. +You ask Mr Contrabando to come some night and show us the way." + +"Show us the way where?" + +"Anywhere. Up into the passes, as he calls them, right up in the +mountains, so that we shall know which way to go when we want to join +the Bri'sh army." + +"It would be hardly fair to him, Punch," said Pen. + +"Never mind that. It would be fair to us, and it would be exercising +your leg. Pretty muddle we should be in when the order comes to march +and your poor old leg won't go." + +"Ah, well, we shall see, Punch," said Pen. + +"Ah, I would; and soon. It strikes me sometimes that he's getting +rather tired of his job, him and all his chaps too. I've watched them +when they come here of an evening to ask questions of the father and lay +their heads together; and I can't understand their jibber-jabber, but +it's plain enough to see that they are grumpy and don't like it, and the +way they goes on screwing up those bits of paper and lighting up and +smoking away is enough to make you ill to watch them. 'Tain't as if +they were good honest pipes. Why, they must smoke as much paper as they +do 'bacco. Think their captain is going to give it up as a bad job?" + +"No, Punch." + +"Well, anyhow, I think you might ask him to take us out with him a bit. +If you don't like to do it on account of yourself, because, as you say, +he might think it ungrateful, you put it all on to me. Look here. You +says, if you can put it into French, as you wouldn't mind it a bit. You +says as it's your comrade as wants to stretch his legs awful bad. Yes, +and you tell him this too, that I keeps on worrying you about having +pins and needles in my back." + +"Stuff, Punch!" + +"That it ain't, honour bright. It's lying on my back so much up there +in that there cock-loft. It all goes dead-like where the bullet went +in. It's just as if it lay there still, and swelled up nearly as big as +a cannon ball, and that lump goes all dead and dumb in needles and pins +like for ever so long. There, you try it on him that way. You say I'm +so sick of it as never was." + +"And it was only yesterday, Punch, you told me that you were thoroughly +happy and contented here, and the country was so beautiful and we were +living so well that you didn't mind if we stayed here for months." + +"'Twaren't yesterday. It was the day before the day before that. You +have got all the time mixed up. I don't know where you would have been +if I hadn't counted up." + +"Well, never mind when it was. You can't deny that you said something +like that." + +"Ah, but I wasn't so tired then. I am all right again now, and so are +you, and I want to be at it. Who's going to be contented shut-up here +like a prisoner?" + +"Not bad sort of imprisonment, Punch." + +"Oh no, that's all right enough, comrade; but I want to get back to our +chaps. They'll be crossing us off as killed and wounded, and your +people at home will be thinking you are dead. I want to get back to the +fighting again. Why, if we go on like this, one of these days they will +be sarving out the promotions, and then where do we come in? I say, the +captain didn't come to see us last week. Think he will to-night?" + +"I hope so, and bring us news." + +"So do I. But isn't it about time that Mr Padre came back?" + +"Must be very near," said Pen. + +"Quite," said Punch. "He gets all the fun, going out for his walks, +a-roving up and down amongst the trees with his book in his hand. Here, +if he don't volunteer to take us for a walk--something more than a bit +of a tramp up and down in the darkness--I shall vote that we run away. +There, if you don't talk to him I shall." + +"Don't, Punch." + +"Why not?" + +"Because I don't want us to seem ungrateful." + +"Oh, all right then.--I say, here he comes!" cried Punch the next +minute; and the old man trudged up to the door with the basket he had +taken away empty evidently well-filled again. + +The priest looked tired as he came in, and according to his custom +looked questioningly at the boys, who could only respond with a shake of +the head; and this made the old man sigh. + +"_Paz_!" he said sadly; and, smiling cheerfully, he displayed the +contents of his basket, stored the provisions he had brought in, and +then according to his wont proceeded to set out the evening meal up in +the loft. + +This meal seemed to have lost its zest to the weary fugitives, and quite +late in the evening, when the lads, after sitting talking together in +whispers so as not to awaken the priest, who, evidently tired out by his +afternoon expedition, had lain down upon the pallet and was sleeping +heavily, were about to follow his example for want of something better +to do, he suddenly sprang up, ascended to the loft, and told Punch that +he was going out again on the watch to see if the friends expected were +coming along the pass, and ended by telling them that they had better +lie down to rest. + +"That's settled it for me," said Punch, as the old man went out and +closed the door. "I can't sleep now. I want to follow him and stretch +my legs." + +"But you can't do that, Punch." + +"Ho! Couldn't I? Why, I could set off and run like I haven't done +since I was shot down." + +"But you can't, Punch," said Pen gravely. "It's quite possible that the +captain may come and ask where the father is. I think we ought to +stay." + +"Oh, very well, then, we will stop; but I don't call this half living. +I want to go and attack somebody or have them attack us. Why, it's like +being dead, going on this round--yes, dead, and just as if they had +forgot to bury us because they've got too much to do. Are you going to +lie down to sleep?" + +"No," said Pen, "I feel as wakeful as you are." + +"I say, look at that now! Of course we can't go to sleep. Well, we +might have a walk up and down outside in the dark. No one could see us, +and it would make us sleepy again." + +"Very well; only we mustn't go out of sight of the door, in case the +captain should come." + +"Yah! He won't come," grumbled Punch; and he descended to the lower +room, scraped the faintly glowing wood-ashes together, and then went to +the door, peered out, and listened, and afterwards, followed by his +comrade, he began to tramp up and down the shelf-like ledge upon which +the priest's cottage was built. + +It was very dark, for the sky was so overcast that not a star was +visible; and, as if feeling depressed by the silence, neither was +disposed for talk, and the consequence was that at the end of about half +an hour Pen caught his companion by the arm and stopped short. His +reason was plain enough, for Punch uttered a faint "Hist!" and led the +way to the cottage door, where they both stopped and listened to a sound +which had grown plainer--that of steps coming swiftly towards them. +They hardly had time to softly close the door and climb up to the loft +before the door was thrown open, there was a quick step below, and a +soft whistle which they well knew now was uttered at the foot of the +steps. + +Pen replied in the way he had learned, and directly after came the +question, "Where's the father?" + +"He went out an hour ago," Pen replied. + +"Which way?" + +"By the upper pass," replied Pen. + +There was a sharp ejaculation, expressive of impatience, the steps +crossed the room again, the door creaked as it was shut to, and then the +steps died away. + +"There, Punch, you see I was right," said Pen. + +"Who's to see anybody's right when it's as black as your hat?" replied +the boy impatiently. + +"Well, I think it's right if you don't. What shall we do--go to sleep +now?" + +"Go to sleep?" growled the boy irritably. "Go to wake you mean! I tell +you what I am just fit for." + +"Well, what?" said Pen good-humouredly. + +"Sentry-go. No fear of anybody catching me asleep who came on his +rounds. I used to think that was the very worst part of being a +soldier, but I could just enjoy it now. 'Tis miserable work, though, +isn't it?" + +"No," replied Pen thoughtfully. + +"But you get very sleepy over it, don't you?" + +"I never did," said Pen gravely, as they both settled themselves upon +the floor of the loft, and the bundles of straw and dried-fern litter +which the priest had added for their comfort rustled loudly while they +placed themselves in restful postures. "I used to find it a capital +time to think, Punch." + +"What about?" + +"The old days when I was a boy at school, and the troubles I had had. +Then I used to question myself." + +"How did you do that?" + +"How did I do that? Why, I used to ask myself questions as to whether I +hadn't done a very foolish thing in enlisting for a soldier." + +"And then of course you used to say no," cried Punch. "Anybody could +answer that question. Why didn't you ask yourself some good tough +questions that you couldn't answer--regular puzzlers?" + +"I always found that puzzle enough, Punch," said Pen gravely; "and I +have never been able to answer it yet." + +"Well, that's a rum un," said Punch, with a sort of laugh. "You have +often called me a queer fellow. You do puzzle me. Why, of course you +did right. You are not down-hearted because we have had a bit of a +venture or two? It's all experience, and you like it as much as I do, +even if I do grumble a bit sometimes because it's so dull. Something's +sure to turn up before long, and--What did you do that for?" + +"Pst!" whispered Pen; and Punch was silence itself, for he too caught +the hurrying of many feet, and low voices in eager converse coming +nearer and nearer; and the next minute there was the heavy thump as of a +fist upon the door, which was thrust open so roughly that it banged +against the wall. + +And then midst the sounds of heavy breathing and the scuffling of feet +as of men bearing in a heavy burden, the room below seemed to be rapidly +filling up, and the door was closed and barred. + + + +CHAPTER TWENTY NINE. + +THE ROYAL VISITOR. + +The two lads grasped hands as they listened in the intense darkness to +what seemed to be a scene of extreme excitement, the actors in it having +evidently been hurrying to reach the cottage, which they had gained in a +state of exhaustion; for those who spoke gave utterance to their words +as if panting and breathless with their exertions, while from their +whispering it seemed evident that they were afraid of being overheard. + +The two listeners dared not stir, for the least movement would have +betrayed them to those below, and before many minutes had elapsed they +felt certain that the present invaders of the cottage were strangers. + +All at once some one gave vent to a piteous sigh and an ejaculation or +two as if of pain; and this was followed by what sounded to be words +that were full of pity and compassion, mingled with great deference, +towards the sufferer. + +Pen could make out nothing more in the hurried and whispered +conversation than that it was in Spanish, and for the time being he felt +somewhat dazed as to who the new-comers were. He was too much startled +to try and puzzle out matters calmly, and for a while he devoted himself +to the preservation of utter silence. + +At last, though, a few more utterances below, spoken in a deferential +tone, followed by a sharp, angry command or two, sent a flash through +his brain, and he pressed Punch's arm with greater energy in an effort +to try and convey to his companion the thought that he knew who the +fresh-comers must be. + +"If they would only strike a light," he thought to himself, "I might get +a peep through the knot-hole"--which was always carefully kept clear for +inspection of what took place below--"and I could see then at a glance +whether this was the expected King with his followers." + +But the darkness remained profound. + +"If it is the escaped Spanish King," he said to himself, "it will be +plain to see. It must be, and they have been pursued by the French, or +they wouldn't be afraid to speak aloud." + +Then he began to doubt again, for the Spanish King and his followers, +who needed a guide to lead them through the intricate passes of the +mountains, would not have known their way to the cottage. + +"Nonsense!" he thought to himself, as fresh doubts arose. "The old +priest or the captain must have met them and brought them here." + +Then all was silent for a time, till it was evident that some one was +moving by the fireplace; and then there was the sound of some one +blowing. + +This was followed by a faint glow of light; the blowing sound increased, +and it was evident that the wood-ashes possessed sufficient life to be +fanned into flame, which increased as the embers were evidently being +drawn together by a piece of metal; and before another minute had +elapsed Pen made out through the knot-hole that the instrument used for +reviving the fire was the blade of a sword. + +Then some one sighed deeply and uttered a few words in an imperious tone +whose effect was to set some one fanning the fire with more energy, when +the cracks in the boarded floor began to show, and the watcher above +began to get glimpses of those below him. + +A few minutes later the embers began to crackle, the members of the +party below grew more visible, and some one uttered a few words in an +eager tone--words which evoked an ejaculation or two of satisfaction, +followed by an eager conversation that sounded like a dispute. + +This was followed by an angry, imperious command, and this again by what +sounded to Pen like a word or two of protest. Then the sharp, +commanding voice beat down the respectful objection, one of the flaming +brands seemed to rise from the hearth, and directly after the smoky wick +of the _padre's_ lamp flamed up. + +And now Pen had a view of the crowded room which completely dashed his +belief in the party being the Spanish King and his followers, for he was +looking down upon the heads of a gathering of rough-looking, unshorn, +peasant-like men, for the most part in cloaks. Some wore the regular +handkerchief tied round their heads and had their sombrero hats held in +hand or laid by their sides. All, too, were well armed, wearing swords +and rough scarves or belts which contained pistols. + +This scene was enough to sweep away all thought of this being a king and +his courtiers, for nothing could have been less suggestive thereof, and +the lad looked in vain for one of them who might have been wounded or so +wearied out that he had been carried in. + +Then for a moment Pen let his thoughts run in another direction, but +only for a few moments. These were evidently not any of the smuggler's +men. He had seen too many of them during his sojourn at the priest's +hut not to know what they were like--that is to say, men accustomed to +the mountains; for they were all in their way jaunty of mien. Their +arms, too, were different, and once more the thought began to gain +entrance that his former surmise was right, and that these bearers of +swords who had spoken in such deferential tones to one of their party +were after all faithful followers or courtiers who had assumed disguises +that would enable them to pass over the mountains unnoticed. Which then +was the King? + +"If some of them would speak," said Pen to himself, "it would be easier +to tell." + +But the silence, save for a faint crack or two from the burning wood, +remained profound. + +At last the watcher was beginning to come to a conclusion and settle in +his own mind that one of the party who was bending forward towards the +fire with his cloak drawn about his face might be the King; and his +belief grew stronger as a flickering flame from the tiny fire played +upon this man's high boots, one of which displayed a rusty spur. + +The next minute all doubt was at an end, for one of the men nearest the +door uttered a sharp ejaculation which resulted in the occupants of the +_padre's_ dwelling springing to their feet. Swords leapt from their +scabbards, and some of the men drew their cloaks about their left arms, +while others snatched pistols from their belts, and there followed the +sharp clicking of their locks. + +It was evident they were on the alert for anticipated danger, and Pen's +eyes glistened, for he could hear no sound. But he noted one thing, and +that was that the booted and spurred individual in the cloak did not +stir from where he was seated upon the priest's stool by the fire. + +Then, with a gesture of impatience, Pen saw him throw back his cloak and +put his hand to his belt to draw forth a pistol which refused to come. +Then with an angry word he gave a fierce tug, with the result that the +weapon came out so suddenly that its holder's arm flew up, the pistol +exploded with a loud crash, the bullet with which it was loaded passed +upward through the boarded ceiling, and Pen started and made a snatch at +the spot where his musket was propped up against the wall, while Punch +leaped from where he had crouched and came down again upon the +ill-fitting boards, which cracked loudly as if the boy were going +through. + + + +CHAPTER THIRTY. + +AN AWKWARD POSITION. + +There was a burst of excitement, hurried ejaculations, and half-a-dozen +pistols were rapidly discharged by their holders at the ceiling; while +directly after, in obedience to a command uttered by one of the party, a +dash was made for the corner door, which was dragged open, and, sword in +hand, several of the men climbed to the loft. The boards creaked, there +was a hurried scuffle, and first Punch and then Pen were compelled to +descend into the room below, dragged before the leader, forced upon +their knees, and surrounded by a circle of sword-points, whose bearers +gazed at their leader, awaiting his command to strike. + +The leader sank back in his seat, nursing the pistol he had accidentally +discharged. Then with his eyes half-closed he slowly raised it to take +aim at Pen, who gazed at him firmly and without seeming to blench, while +Punch uttered a low, growling ejaculation full of rage as he made a +struggle to escape, but was forced back upon his knees, to start and +wince as he felt the point of a sword touch his neck. Then he cried +aloud, "Never mind, comrade! Let 'em see we are Bri'sh soldiers and +mean to die game." + +Pen did not withdraw his eyes from the man who held his life in hand, +and reached out behind him to grasp Punch's arm; but his effort was +vain. + +Just then the seated man seemed to recollect himself, for he threw the +empty pistol upon the floor and tugged another from his belt, cocked it, +and then swung himself round, directing the pistol at the door, which +was dashed open by the old priest, who ran in and stood, panting hard, +between the prisoners and the holder of the pistol. + +He was too breathless to speak, but he gesticulated violently before +grasping Pen's shoulder with one hand and waving the other round as if +to drive back those who held the prisoners upon their knees. + +He tried to speak, but the words would not come; and then there was +another diversion, for a fresh-comer dashed in through the open door, +and, regardless of the swords directed at him, forced his way to where +the prisoners were awaiting their fate. + +He, too, was breathless with running, for he sank quickly on one knee, +caught at the hand which held the pistol and raised it quickly to his +lips, as he exclaimed in French: + +"No, no, your Majesty! Not that!" + +"They are spies," shouted the tired-looking Spaniard who had given the +command which had sent his followers to make the seizure in the loft. + +"No spies," cried the _contrabandista_. "Our and his Majesty's +friends--wounded English soldiers who had been fighting upon our side." + +There was a burst of ejaculations; swords were sheathed, and the +dethroned Spanish monarch uncocked his pistol and thrust it back into +his belt. + +"They have had a narrow escape," he said bitterly. "Why were you not +here with the friends you promised?" + +"They are outside awaiting my orders, your Majesty," said the smuggler +bluntly. "May I remind you that you are not to your time, neither have +you come by the pass I promised you to watch." + +"Bah! How could I, when I was driven by these wretched French, who are +ten times our number? We had to reach the trysting-place how we could, +and it was natural that these boys should be looked upon as spies. Now +then, where are you going to take us? The French soldiers cannot be far +behind." + +"No, sire; they are very near." + +"And your men--where are they?" + +"Out yonder, sire, between you and your pursuers." + +"Then are we to continue our flight to-night?" + +"I cannot tell yet, sire. Not if my men can hold the enemy at bay. It +may be that they will fall back here, but I cannot say yet. I did +intend to lead you through the forest and along a path I know by the +mountain-side; but it is possible that the French are there before us." + +"And are these your plans of which you boasted?" cried the King +bitterly. + +"No, sire," replied the _contrabandista_ bluntly. "Your Majesty's delay +has upset all those." + +The King made an angry gesticulation. + +"How could I help it?" he said bitterly. "Man, we have been hemmed in +on all sides. There, I spoke hastily. You are a tried friend. Act as +you think best. You must not withdraw your help." + +"Your Majesty trusts me, then, again?" + +"Trust you? Of course," said the King, holding out his hand, which the +smuggler took reverently and raised to his lips. + +Then dropping it he turned sharply to the priest and the two prisoners. + +"All a mistake, my friends. There," he added, with a smile, "I see you +are not afraid;" and noting Punch's questioning look, he patted him on +the shoulder before turning to Pen again. "Where are your guns?" he +said. + +Pen pointed up to the loft. + +"Get them, then, quickly. We shall have to leave here now." + +He had hardly spoken before a murmur arose and swords were drawn, for +there was a quick step outside, a voice cried "_El rey_!" and one of the +smuggler's followers pressed through to whisper a few words. + +"Ah!" cried the recipient, who turned and said a few words in Spanish to +the King, who rose to his feet, drew his rough cloak around him, and +stood as if prepared for anything that might come. + +Just then Pen's voice was heard, and, quite free now, Punch stepped to +the door and took the two muskets that were passed down to him. Then +Pen descended with the cartouche-boxes and belts, and handed one to +Punch in exchange for a musket, and the two lads stood ready. + +The smuggler smiled approval as he saw his young friends' prompt action, +and nodded his head. + +"Can you walk?" he said. + +Pen nodded. + +"And can you fire a few shots on our behalf?" + +"Try us," replied Pen. "But it rather goes against the grain after what +we have received. You only came in time." + +"Yes, I know," replied the smuggler. "But there are many mistakes in +war, and we are all friends now." + +The _contrabandista_ turned from him sharply and hurried to the door, +where another of his followers appeared, who whispered a few words to +him, received an order, and stepped back, while his leader turned to the +father and said something, which resulted in the old man joining the two +lads and pressing their hands, looking at them sadly. + +The next minute the smuggler signed to them to join his follower who was +waiting by the door, while he stepped to the King, spoke to him firmly +for a few minutes, and then led the way out into the darkness, with the +two English lads, who were conscious that they were being followed by +the royal fugitive and his men, out along the shelf in the direction of +the forest-path, which they had just gained when a distant shot rang +out, to be repeated by the echoes and followed by another and another, +ample indication that there was danger very near at hand. + +The captain said a few words to his follower, and then turned to Pen. + +"Keep with this man," he said, "when I am not here. I must go back and +see what is going on." + +The lads heard his steps for a minute amongst the crackling husks of the +past year's chestnuts and parched twigs. Then they were merged with +those of the party following. + +"I say," whispered Punch, "how's your leg?" + +"I had almost forgotten it," replied Pen in a whisper. + +"That's good, comrade. But, I say, all that set a fellow thinking." + +"Yes; don't talk about it," replied Pen. + +"All right. But I say, isn't this lovely--on the march again with a +loaded gun over your shoulder? If I had got my bugle back, and one's +officer alongside, I should be just happy. Think we shall have a chance +of a shot or two?" + +The smuggler, who was leading the way, stopped short and turned upon +Punch with a deep, low growl. + +"Eh?" replied Punch. "It's no good, comrade; I can't understand a +word." + +The man growled again, and laid his hand sharply upon the boy's lips. + +"Here, don't do that!" cried Punch. "How do I know when you washed that +last?" + +"Be quiet, Punch. The man means we may be nearing the enemy." + +"Why don't he say so, then?" grumbled Punch; and their guide grunted as +if satisfied with the effect of Pen's words, and led on again in and out +a rugged, winding path, sometimes ascending, sometimes descending, but +never at fault in spite of the darkness. + +Sometimes he stopped short to listen as if to find out how near the +King's party were behind, and when satisfied he led on again, giving the +two lads a friendly tap or two upon the shoulder after finding that any +attempt at other communication was in vain. + +At last after what must have been about a couple of hours' tramp along +the extremely rugged path, made profoundly dark by the overhanging low, +gnarled trees, he stopped short again and laid his hand in turn upon the +lips of the boys, and then touched Pen's musket, which he made him +ground, took hold of his hands in turn and laid them on the muzzle, and +then stood still. + +"What's he up to now?" whispered Punch, with his lips close to his +comrade's ear. + +"I think he means we are to halt and keep guard." + +"Oh, that's it, is it?" muttered Punch; and he stood fast, while the +smuggler patted him on the shoulder and went off quickly, leaving the +boys alone, with Punch muttering and fuming in his intense desire to +speak. But he mastered himself and stood firm, listening as the steps +of the party behind came nearer and nearer till they were close at hand. +This was too much for Punch. + +"Lookye here," he whispered; "they will be ready to march over us +directly. How are we going to tell them to halt?" + +"Be silent. Perhaps they will have the sense to see that they ought to +stop. Most likely there are some amongst them who understand French." + +Pen proved to be right in his surmise, for directly after a portion of +the following party were close to them, and the foremost asked a +question in Spanish. "_Halte_!" said Pen sharply, and at a venture; but +it proved sufficient. And as he stood in the dim, shadowy, overhung +path the word was passed along to the rear, and the dull sound of +footsteps died out. "Bravo!" whispered Punch. "They are beginning to +understand English after all. I say, ain't that our chaps coming back?" + +Pen heard nothing for a few moments. Then there was the faint crack of +a twig breaking beneath some one's feet, and the smuggler who was acting +as their guide rejoined them. + +"_Los Franceses_," said the man, in a whisper; and he dropped the +carbine he carried with its butt upon the stony earth, rested his hands +upon the muzzle, and stood in silence gazing right away, and evidently +listening and keenly on the alert, for he turned sharply upon Punch, who +could not keep his tongue quiet. + +"Oh, bother! All right," growled the boy. "Here, comrade," he +whispered to Pen; "aren't these 'ere cork-trees?" + +"Perhaps. I'm not sure," whispered his companion impatiently. "Why do +you ask? What does it matter now?" + +"Lots. Just you cut one of them. Cut a good big bung off and stuff it +into my mouth; for I can't help it, I feel as if I must talk." + +"Urrrrrrr!" growled the guide; and then, "Hist! hist!" for there was a +whispering behind, and directly after the _contrabandista_ captain +joined them, to ask a low question in Spanish. + +"The enemy are in front. They are before us," said the smuggler in +French to Pen. + +Then he spoke to his follower, who immediately began to retrace his +steps, while the leader followed him with the two lads, who were led +back to where the King was waiting in the midst of his followers; and +now a short colloquy took place which resulted in all facing round and +following the two smugglers, who retraced their path for the next +half-hour, and then suddenly struck off along a rugged track whose +difficulty was such that it was quite plain to the two lads that they +were striking off right up into the mountains. + +It was a wearisome route that was only followed with great difficulty, +and now it was that Pen's wounded leg began to give him such intense +pain that there were moments when he felt that he must break down. + +But it came to an end at last, just before daybreak, in the midst of +what seemed to be an amphitheatre of stones, or what might have been +some quarry or place where prospecting had taken place in search of some +one or other of the minerals which abounded in parts of the sterile +land. + +And now a halt was made, the smuggler picking out a spot which was rough +with bushes; and here he signed to the two lads to lie down and rest, a +silent command so welcome that Pen sank at full length at once, the +rugged couch seeming to him so welcome that it felt to him like down. + +A few specks of orange light high up in the sky told that sunrise was +very near at hand, and for a few minutes Pen gazed upwards, rapt in +wonder by the beauty of the sight. But as he lay and listened to the +low murmur of voices, these gradually grew fainter and apparently more +distant, while the ruddy specks of light paled and there seemed to be +nothing more, for pain and exhaustion had had their way. Thoughts of +Spaniards, officers and men, and the _contrabandistas_ with their arms +of knife and carbine, were quite as naught, danger non-existent, and for +the time being sleep was lord of all. + + + +CHAPTER THIRTY ONE. + +A DREAM OF A RAMROD. + +It seemed to Pen to be a dream, and then by some kind of mental change +it appeared to be all reality. In the first instance he felt that he +was lying in the loft over the priest's room, trying to sleep, but he +could not get himself into a comfortable position because Punch had gone +down below to clean his musket and wanted him to come down too and +submit his weapon to the same process. But it had happened that he +wanted to go to sleep horribly, and he had refused to go down; with the +consequence that as he lay just over the knot-hole Punch kept on poking +his ramrod through the opening to waken him up, and the hard rod was +being forced through the dry leaves of the Indian corn to reach his leg +exactly where the bullet had ploughed, while in the most aggravating way +Punch would keep on sawing the ramrod to and fro and giving him the most +acute pain. + +Then the boy seemed to leave off in a tiff and tell him that he might +sleep for a month for aught he cared, and that he would not try to waken +him any more. + +Then somehow, as the pain ceased, he did not go to sleep, but went right +off up the mountain-side in the darkness, guiding the King and his +followers into a place of safety; still it was not so safe but that he +could hear the French coming and firing at them now and then. + +However, he went on and on, feeling puzzled all the time that he should +know the way through the mountains so well, and he took the King to rest +under the great chestnut-tree, and then on again to where the French +were firing, and one of them brought him down with the bullet that +ploughed his leg. + +But that did not seem to matter, for, as if he knew every bit of the +country by heart, he led the King to the goat-herd's cottage, and +advised him to lie down and have a good rest on the rough bed, because +the peasant-girl would be there before long with a basket of food. + +The King said that he did not care to sleep because he was so dreadfully +thirsty, and what he wanted was a bowl of goat's-milk. Then somehow he +went to where the goat was waiting to be milked, and for a long time the +milk would not come, but when it did and he was trying to fill the +little wooden _seau_ it was all full of beautiful cold water from the +foot of the falls where the trout were rushing about. + +Then somehow Punch kept on sawing his ramrod to and fro along the wound +in his leg, and the more he tried to catch hold of the iron rod the more +Punch kept on snatching it away; and they were going through the +darkness again, with the King and his followers close behind, on the way +to safety; while Pen felt that he was quite happy now, because he had +saved the King, who was so pleased that he made him Sir Arthur Wellesley +and gave him command of the British army. + +Whereupon Punch exclaimed, "I never saw such a fellow as you are to +sleep! Do wake up. Here's Mr Contrabando waiting to speak to you, and +he looks as if he wanted to go away." + +"Punch!" exclaimed Pen, starting up. + +"Punch it is. Are you awake now?" + +"Awake? Yes. Have I been dreaming?" + +"I d'know whether you have been dreaming or not, but you have been +snoring till I was ashamed of you, and the more I stirred you up the +more you would keep on saying, `Ramrod.'" + +"Bah! Nonsense!" + +"That's what I thought, comrade. But steady! Here he is again." + +"Ah, my young friend!" said the _contrabandista_, holding out his hand. +"Better after your long sleep?" + +"Better? Yes," replied Pen eagerly. "Leg's very stiff; but I am ready +to go on. Are we to march again?" + +"Well, no, there's not much chance of that, for we are pretty well +surrounded by the enemy, and here we shall have to stay unless we can +beat them off." + +"Where are we? What place is this?" asked Pen rather confusedly. + +"One of our hiding-places, my friend, where we store up our goods and +stable the mules when the pass near here is blocked up by snow or the +frontier guards. Well, how do you feel now? Ready to go into hiding +where you will be safe, or are you ready to help us against your enemies +the French?" + +"Will there be fighting?" asked Pen eagerly. + +"You may be pretty sure of that; but I don't want to force you two +wounded young fellows into taking part therein unless you are willing." + +"I am willing," said Pen decisively; "but it's only fair that I should +ask my comrade, who is only one of the buglers of my regiment." + +"Oh, of course," said the smuggler captain, "a non-combatant. He +carries a musket, I see, like yourself." + +"Yes," replied Pen, with a smile, "but it is only a French piece. We +belong to a rifle-regiment by rights." + +"Yes; I have heard of it," said the smuggler. + +"Well, I will ask him," said Pen, "for he doesn't understand a word we +are saying.--Punch," he continued, addressing the boy, "the +_contrabandista_ wants to know whether we will fire a few shots against +the French who are trying to take the Spanish King." + +"Where do they want to take him?" cried the boy eagerly. + +"Back to prison." + +"Why, of course we will," said the boy sharply. "What do you want to +ask that for?" + +"Because he knows that you are not a private soldier, but a bugle-boy." + +"Well, I can't help that, can I? I am a-growing, and I dare say I could +hit a haystack as well as a good many of our chaps. They ain't all of +them so clever because they are a bit older than I am." + +"Well, don't get into a tiff, Punch. This isn't a time to show your +temper." + +"Who's a-showing temper? I can't help being a boy. What does he want +to chuck that in a fellow's teeth for?" + +"Quiet! Quiet!" said Pen, smiling. "Then I am to tell him that you are +ready to have a shot or two at the enemy?" + +"Well, I do call you a pretty comrade!" said the boy indignantly. "I +should have thought you would have said yes at once, instead of +parlyvooing about it like that.--Right, sir!" cried the boy, catching up +his musket, giving it two or three military slaps, and drawing himself +up as if he had just heard the command, "Present arms!" + +"_Bon_!" said the smuggler, smiling; and he gave the boy a friendly slap +on the shoulder. + +"Ah!" ejaculated Punch, "that's better," as the smuggler now turned away +to speak to a group of his men who were standing keeping watch behind +some rocks a short distance away.--"I say, comrade--you did tell me +once, but I forgetted it--what does _bong_ mean?" + +"Good." + +"Ho! All right. _Bong_! I shall remember that next time. Fire a few +shots! I am game to go on shooting as long as the cartridges last; and +my box is full. How's yours?" + +"Only half," replied Pen. + +"Oh, well, fair-play's a jewel; share and share alike. Here, catch +hold. That looks like fair measure. We don't want to count them, do +we?" + +"Oh no, that's quite near enough." + +"Will we fire a few shots at the French?" continued Punch eagerly. "I +should just think we will! Father always said to me, `Pay your debts, +my boy, as long as the money lasts;' and though it ain't silver and +copper here, it's cartridges and--There! Ain't it rum, comrade? Now, I +wonder whether you feel the same. The very thought of paying has made +the pain in my back come again. I say, how's your leg?" + + + +CHAPTER THIRTY TWO. + +A CAVERNOUS BREAKFAST. + +"I say, comrade," whispered Punch; "are we going to begin soon?" + +The boys were seated upon a huge block of stone watching the coming and +going of the _contrabandistas_, several of whom formed a group in a nook +of the natural amphitheatre-like chasm in which they had made their +halt. + +This seemed to be the entrance to a gully, down which, as they waited, +the lads had seen the smuggler-leader pass to and fro several times +over, and as far as they could make out away to their left lay the track +by which they had approached during the night; but they could not be +sure. + +That which had led them to this idea was the fact that it seemed as if +sentries had been stationed somewhere down there, one of whom had come +hurriedly into the amphitheatre as if in search of his chief. + +"I say, comrade," said Punch, repeating his question rather impatiently, +"aren't we going to begin soon? I feel just like old O'Grady." + +"How's that, Punch?" + +"What he calls `spoiling for a fight, me boy.'" + +"Oh, you needn't feel like that, Punch," said Pen, smiling. + +"Well, don't you?" + +"No. I never do. I never want to kill anybody." + +"You don't? That ain't being a good soldier." + +"I can't help that, Punch. Of course, when one's in for it I fire away +like the rest; but when I'm cool I somehow don't like the feeling that +one has killed or wounded some brave man." + +"Oh, get out," cried the boy, "with your `killed or wounded some brave +man!' They ain't brave men--only Frenchies." + +"Why, Punch, there are as brave men amongst the French as amongst the +English." + +"Get out! I don't believe that," said the boy. "There can't be. If +there were, how could our General with his little bit of an army drive +the big army of Frenchies about as he does? Ask any of our fellows, and +they will tell you that one Englishman is worth a dozen Frenchies. Why, +you must have heard them say so." + +"Oh yes, I have, Punch," said Pen, laughing, as he nursed his leg, which +reminded him of his wound from time to time. "But I don't believe it. +It's only bluster and brag, of which I think our fellows ought to be +ashamed. Why, you've more than once seen the French soldiers drive our +men back." + +"Well, yes," said Punch grudgingly. "But that's when there have been +more of them." + +"Not always, Punch." + +"Why is it, then?" + +"Oh, when they have had better positions and our officers have been +outflanked." + +"Now you are dodging away from what we were talking about," said Punch. +"You were saying that you didn't like shooting the men." + +"Well, I don't." + +"That's because you don't understand things," cried the boy +triumphantly. "You see, although I am only a boy, and younger than you +are, I am an older soldier." + +"Are you, Punch?" said Pen, smiling. + +"Course I am! Why, you've only been about a year in the regiment." + +"Yes, about a year." + +"Well," cried the boy triumphantly, "I was born in it, so I'm just as +old a soldier as I am years old. You needn't mind shooting as many of +them as you can. They are the King's enemies, and it is your duty to. +Don't the song say, `God save the King?' Well, every British soldier +has got to help and kill as many enemies as he can. But I say, we are +going to fight for the Spanish King, then? Well, all right; he's our +King's friend. But where is he now? I haven't seen anything of him +this morning. I hope he hasn't run away and left us to do the +fighting." + +"Oh no," said Pen, "I don't think so. Our smuggler friend said we were +surrounded by the French." + +"Surrounded, eh?" cried Punch. "So much the better! Won't matter which +way we fire then, we shall be sure to bring some one down. Glad you +think the Spanish King ain't run away though. If I was a king I know +what I should do, comrade," continued Punch, nursing his musket and +giving it an affectionate rub and pat here and there. "Leg hurt you, +comrade?" + +"No, only now and then," said Pen, smiling. "But what would you do if +you were a king?" + +"Lead my army like a man." + +"Nonsense! What are the generals for?" + +"Oh, you would want your generals, of course, and the more brave +generals the King has--like Sir Arthur Wellesley--the better. I say, +he's an Irishman, isn't he?" + +"Yes, I believe so," replied Pen. + +"Yes," continued Punch after a minute. "They are splendid fellows to +fight. I wonder whether he's spoiling for one now. Old O'Grady would +say he was. You should hear him sometimes when he's on the talk. How +he let go, my boy, about the Oirish! Well, they are good soldiers, and +I wish, my boy, old O was here to help. O, O, and it's O with me, I am +so hungry! Ain't they going to give us anything to eat?" + +"Perhaps not, Punch, for it's very doubtful whether our friends keep +their provisions here." + +"Oh, I say!" cried the boy, with his face resembling that of the brave +man in _Chevy Chase_ who was in doleful dump, "that's a thing I'd see to +if I was a king and led my army. I would have my men get a good feed +before they advanced. They would fight ever so much better. Yes, if I +was a king I'd lead my own men. They'd like seeing him, and fight for +him all the better. Of course I wouldn't have him do all the dirty +work, but--Look there, comrade; there's Mr Contrabando making signals +to you. We are going to begin. Come on!" + +The boy sprang to his feet, and the companions marched sharply towards +the opening where the group of smugglers were gathered. + +"Bah!" ejaculated Punch contemptuously. "What a pity it is! I don't +believe that they will do much good with dumpy tools like them;" and the +boy literally glared at the short carbines the smugglers had slung +across their shoulders. "Of course a rifle would be best, but a good +musket and bayonet is worth a dozen of those blunderbusters. What do +they call them? Bell-mouthed? Why, they are just like so many +trumpet-things out of the band stuck upon a stick. Why, it stands to +reason that they can't go bang. It will only be a sort of a _pooh_!" +And the boy pursed up his lips and held his hand to his mouth as if it +were his lost bugle, and emitted a soft, low note--_poooooh_! + +"_Dejeuner, mes amis_!" said the smuggler, as the boys advanced; and he +led the way past a group of his followers along the narrow passage-like +opening to where it became a hewn-out tunnel which showed the marks of +picks, and on into a rock-chamber of great extent, in one corner of +which a fire was blazing cheerfully, with the smoke rising to an outlet +in the roof. Directly after the aromatic scent of hot coffee smote the +nostrils of the hungry lads, as well as the aroma of newly fried ham, +while away at one side to the right they caught sight of the strangers +of the past night, Pen recognising at once the now uncloaked leader who +had presented a pistol at his head. + +"Here, I say," whispered Punch excitedly, "hold me up, comrade, or I +shall faint." + +"What's the matter?" said Pen anxiously. "You feel that dreadful pain +again? Is it your wound?" + +"Pain? Yes," whispered Punch; "but it ain't there;" and he thrust his +hand into his pocket to feel for his knife. + +It was a rough meal, roughly served, but so abundant that it was evident +that the smugglers were adepts in looking after the commissariat +department. In one part of the cavern-like place the King and his +followers were being amply supplied, while right on the other side-- +partly hidden by a couple of stacks piled-up in the centre of the great +chamber, and formed in the one case of spirit-kegs, in the other of +carefully bound up bales that might have been of silk or velvet--were +grouped together near the fire some scores of the _contrabandistas_ who +seemed to be always coming and going--coming to receive portions of +food, and going to make place for others of the band. + +And it was beyond these stacks of smuggled goods that their +_contrabandista_ friend signed to the lads to seat themselves. One of +the men brought them coffee and freshly fried ham and cake, which the +captain shared with them and joined heartily in the meal. + +"I say, Pen," whispered Punch, "do tell him in `parlyvoo' that I say +he's a trump! Fight for him and the King! I should just think we will! +D'ye 'ear? Tell him." + +"No," said Pen. "Let him know what we feel towards him by what we do, +Punch, not what we say." + +"All right. Have it your own way," said the boy. "But, I say, I do +like this ham. I suppose it's made of some of them little pigs we see +running about in the woods. Talk about that goat's mutton! Why, +'tain't half so good as ours made of sheep, even though they do serve it +out and call it kid. Why, when we have had it sometimes for rations, +you couldn't get your teeth into it. Kid, indeed! Grandfather kid! +I'm sure of that. I say, pass the coffee, comrade. Only fancy! Milk +and sugar too! Oh no, go on; drink first. Age before honesty. I +wonder whether this was smuggled.--What's the matter now?" + +For in answer to a shrill whistle that rang loudly in echoes from the +roof, every _contrabandista_ in the place sprang up and seized his +carbine, their captain setting the example. + +"No, no," he said, turning to the two lads. "Finish your breakfast, and +eat well, boys. It may be a long time before you get another chance. +There's plenty of time before the firing begins, and I will come back +for you and station you where you can fight for Spain." + +He walked quickly across to where the King's followers had started up +and stood sword in hand, their chief remaining seated upon an upturned +keg, looking calm and stern; but at the same time his eyes wandered +proudly over the roughly disguised devoted little band who were ready to +defend him to the last. + +Pen watched the _contrabandista_ as he advanced and saluted the +dethroned monarch without a trace of anything servile; the Spanish +gentleman spoke as he addressed his sovereign in a low tone, but his +words were not audible to the young rifleman. Still the latter could +interpret them to himself by the Spaniard's gestures. + +"What's he a-saying of?" whispered Punch; and as he spoke the boy +surreptitiously cut open a cake, turned it into a sandwich, and thrust +it into his haversack. + +"I can't hear, Punch," replied Pen; "and if I could I shouldn't +understand, for he's speaking in Spanish. But he's evidently telling +him that his people may finish their breakfast in peace, for, like us, +they are not wanted yet." + +As Pen spoke the officers sheathed their swords, and two or three of +them replaced pistols in their sashes. Then the _contrabandista_ turned +and walked sharply across the cavern-like chamber to overtake his men, +and as he disappeared, distant but sharp and echoing _rap, rap, rap_, +came the reports of firearms, and Punch looked sharply at his companion. + +"Muskets, ain't they?" he said excitedly. + +"I think so," replied Pen. + +"Must be, comrade. Those blunderbusters--_trabookoos_ don't they call +them?--couldn't go off with a bang like that. All right; we are ready. +But, I say, a soldier should always make his hay when the sun shines. +Fill your pockets and haversack, comrade.--There they go again! I am +glad. It's like the old days once more. It will be `Forward!' +directly--a skirmishing advance. Oh, bad luck, as old O'Grady says, to +the spalpeen who stole my bugle! The game's begun." + + + +CHAPTER THIRTY THREE. + +AT BAY. + +The King's party remained perfectly still during the first few shots, +and then, unable to contain themselves, they seemed to the lads to be +preparing for immediate action. The tall, stern-looking Spaniard who +had seemed to be their leader the previous night, and who had given the +orders which resulted in the boys being dragged down into the priest's +room, now with a due show of deference approached the King, who remained +seated, and seemed to be begging his Sovereign to go in the direction he +pointed, where a dark passage evidently led onward right into the inner +portions of the cavern or deserted mine. + +The conversation, which was carried on in Spanish, would not have been +comprehended by the two lads even if they had understood that tongue; +but in spite of the Spaniard going even so far as to follow up his +request and persuasion by catching at the King's arm and trying to draw +him in the direction he indicated, that refugee shook his head +violently, wrested his wrist away, drew his sword, placed himself in +front of his followers, and signed to them to advance towards the +entrance. + +"Well done!" whispered Punch. "He is something like a king after all. +He means fighting, he does!" + +"Hush," whispered back Pen, "or you will be heard." + +"Not us," replied Punch, who began busying himself most unnecessarily +with his musket, placing the butt between his feet, pulling out the +ramrod and running it down the barrel to tap the end of the cartridge as +if to make sure that it was well driven home. + +Satisfied with this, he drew the iron rod again, thrust it into the +loops, threw the piece muzzle forward, opened the pan to see that it was +full of powder, shut it down again, and made a careful examination of +the flint. For these were the days long prior to the birth of the +copper percussion-cap, and plenty of preliminaries had to be gone +through before the musket could be fired. + +Satisfied now that everything possible had been done, he whispered a +suggestion to his companion that he too should make an examination. + +"I did," replied Pen, "a few minutes ago." + +"But hadn't you better look again?" whispered Punch. + +"No, no," cried his companion impatiently. "Look at them; they are all +advancing to the entrance, and we oughtn't to be left behind." + +"We ain't a-going to be," said the boy through his set teeth. "Come +on." + +"No," replied Pen. + +"Come on, I say," cried the boy again. "We have only got muskets, but +we are riflemen all the same, and our dooty is to go right in front +skirmishing to clear the way." + +"Our orders were," said Pen, "to wait here till our captain fetched us +to the front and did what he told us." + +"But he ain't come," protested Punch. + +"Not yet," replied Pen. "Do you want him to come and find that we have +broken faith with him and are not here?" + +"Course I don't," cried the boy, speaking now excitedly. "But suppose +he ain't coming? How do we know that he aren't got a bullet in him and +has gone down? He can't come then." Pen was silent. + +"And look here," continued Punch; "when he gave us those orders he told +that other lot--the Spaniel reserve, you may call them--to stop yonder +till he come. Well, that's the King, ain't it? He's ordered an +advance, and he's leading it hisself. Where's his cloud of riflemen +feeling the way for him? Are we to stop in the rear? I thought you did +know better than that, comrade. I do. This comes of you only being a +year in the regiment and me going on learning for years and years. I +say our place is in the front; so come on." + +"Yes, Punch; you must be right," said Pen unwillingly, "Forwards then. +Double!" + +"That's your sort!" And falling into step and carrying their muskets at +the trail, the two lads ran forward, their steps drowned for the moment +by the heavy firing going on away beyond the entrance; and they were +nearly close up to the little Spanish party before their advance was +observed, and then one of the Spaniards shouted a command which resulted +in his fellows of the King's bodyguard of friends turning suddenly upon +them to form a _chevaux-de-frise_ of sword-blades for the protection of +their Sovereign. + +For the moment, in the excitement, the two lads' lives were in peril; +but Pen did not flinch, and, though suffering acute pain from his wound, +ran on, his left arm almost brushing the little hedge of sword-points, +and only slackening his speed when he was a dozen yards in front and +came right upon the smuggler-leader, pistol in one hand, long Spanish +knife in the other. + +Instead of angrily denouncing them for their disobedience to his order, +he signed to them to stop, and ran on to meet the King's party, holding +up his hand; and then, taking the lead, he turned off a little way to +his left toward a huge pile of stones and mine-refuse, where he placed +them, as it were, behind a bank which would act as a defence if a rush +upon them were made from the front. + +The two lads watched him, panting the while with excitement, listening +as they watched to the fierce burst of firing that was now being +sustained. + +The King gave way at once to the smuggler's orders, planting himself +with his followers ready for an anticipated assault; and, apparently +satisfied, the smuggler waved the hand that grasped his knife and ran +forward again with the two young Englishmen. + +This time it was the pistol that he waved to them as if bidding them +follow, and he ran on some forty or fifty yards to where the entrance +widened out and another heap of mine-rubbish offered itself upon the +other side as a rough earthwork for defence, and where the two lads +could find a temporary parapet which commanded the entry for nearly a +hundred yards. + +Here he bade the two lads kneel where, perfectly safe themselves, they +could do something to protect their Spanish friends behind on their +left. + +"Do your best," he said hoarsely. "They are driving my men back fast; +but if you can keep up a steady fire, little as it will be, it will act +as a surprise and maybe check their advance. But take care and mind not +to injure any of my men." + +He said no more, but ran forward again along the still unoccupied way, +till a curve of the great rift hid him from their sight. + +"What did he say?" whispered Punch excitedly, as Pen now looked round +and diagonally across the way to the great chamber, and could see the +other rough stonework, above which appeared a little line of swords. + +"Said we were to be careful not to hurt him and his friends if they were +beaten back." + +"No fear," said Punch; "we can tell them by their red handkerchiefs +round their heads and their little footy guns. We've got nothing to do, +then, yet." + +"For a while, Punch; but they are coming on fast. Hark at them!" For +the firing grew louder and louder, and was evidently coming nearer. + +"And only two of us as a covering-party!" muttered Punch. "Oh, don't I +wish all our chaps were here!" + +"Or half of them," said Pen. + +"Yes, or half of them, comrade. Why, I'd say thank ye if it was only +old O'Grady, me boy. He can load and fire faster than any chap in our +company. Here, look at that!" For the sunlight shone plainly upon the +red silk handkerchief of a Spaniard who suddenly ran into sight, stopped +short, and turned to discharge his carbine as if at some invisible +pursuers, and then dropped his piece, threw up his hands, and fell +heavily across the way, which was now tenanted by a Spanish defender of +the King. + +"Only wounded perhaps," panted Punch; and Pen watched the fallen man +hopefully in the expectation of seeing him make an effort to crawl out +of the line of fire; but the two lads now became fully conscious of the +fact that bullets were pattering faster and faster right into the +gully-like passage and striking the walls, some to bury themselves, +others to flatten and fall down, bringing with them fragments of stone +and dust. + +The musketry of the attacking party and the replies of pistol and +carbine blended now in a regular roll, but it was evident that the +defenders were stubbornly holding their own; while the muskets that +rested on the stones in front of the two lads remained silent, and Punch +uttered an impatient ejaculation as he looked sharply round at Pen. + +"Oh, do give us a chance," he cried. "Here, comrade, oughtn't we two to +run to cover a little way in advance?" + +"No," said Pen excitedly. "Now then, look out! Here they come!" + +As the words left his lips, first one and then another, and directly +after three more, of the _contrabandistas_ ran round the curve well into +sight and divided, some to one side, some to the other, seeking the +shelter of the rocky wall, and fired back apparently at their pursuing +enemy before beginning to reload. + +They were nearly a hundred yards from the two boys, who crouched, +trembling with excitement, waiting impatiently to afford the little help +they could by bringing their muskets to bear. Then, as the firing went +on, there was another little rush of retiring men, half-a-dozen coming +one by one into sight, to turn, seek the cover of the wall, and fire +back as if in the hope of checking pursuit. But a couple of these went +down, and it soon became evident from the firing that the advance was +steadily continued. + +Another ten minutes of wild excitement followed, and then there was a +rush of the Spaniards, who continued their predecessors' tactics, firing +back and sheltering themselves; but the enemy were still hidden from the +two lads. + +"Let's--oh, do let's cross over to the other side," cried Punch. +"There's two places there where we could get shelter;" and he pointed to +a couple of heaps of stone that diagonally were about forty yards in +advance. + +But as he spoke there was another rush of their friends round the curve, +with the same tactics, while those who had come before now dashed across +the great passage and occupied the two rough stoneworks themselves. + +"Too late!" muttered Punch amidst the roar of musketry which now seemed +to have increased in a vast degree, multiplied as the shots were by +echoing repetitions as they crossed and recrossed from wall to wall. + +"No!" shouted Pen. "Fire!" For half-a-dozen French chasseurs suddenly +came running into sight in pursuit of the last little party of the +Spaniards, dropped upon one knee, and, rapidly taking aim, fired at and +brought down a couple more of the retreating men. + +There was a sharp flash from Punch's piece, and a report from Pen's +which sounded like an echo from the first, and two of the half-dozen +chasseurs rolled over in the dust, while their comrades turned on the +instant and ran back out of sight, followed by a tremendous yell of +triumph from the Spaniards, who had now manned the two heaps of stones +on the other side. + +There was another yell, and another which seemed to fill the entry to +the old mine with a hundred echoes, while as the boys were busily +reloading a figure they did not recognise came running towards their +coign of vantage at the top of his speed. + +"Quick, Punch! An enemy! Bayonets!" cried Pen. + +"Tain't," grumbled Punch. "Nearly ready. It's Contrabando." + +The next minute the Spaniard was behind them, slapping each on the back. + +"Bravo! Bravissimo!" he shouted, making his voice heard above the +enemy's firing, for his men now were making no reply. "_Continuez! +Continuez_!" he cried, and then dashed off forward again and, heedless +of the flying bullets, crossed to where his men were lying down behind +the two farther heaps of stones, evidently encouraging some of them to +occupy better places ready for the enemy when they made their attack in +force. + + + +CHAPTER THIRTY FOUR. + +KEEPING THE BRIDGE. + +Slight as was the check--two shots only--the sight of a couple of their +men going down was sufficient to stop the advance of the attacking party +for a few minutes; but the firing continued in the blind, unreasoning +way of excited soldiery until the leaders had forced it upon the notice +of their eager men that they were firing down a wide gully-like spot +where, consequent on the curve, none of those they sought to shoot down +were in sight. + +But this state of excitement lasted only a few minutes, and then, headed +by an officer, about a dozen of the enemy dashed into view. + +"Now then," whispered Punch; but it was not necessary, for the two +muskets the lads had laid ready went off almost as one, and a couple of +the French chasseurs stumbled forward and fell headlong almost within +touch of their dead or wounded comrades. + +Once more that was enough to make the others turn tail and dash back, +leaving their leader behind shaking his sword after them as they ran; +and then, in contempt and rage, he stopped short and bent down over each +of the poor fellows who had fallen. + +Pen could see him lay his hand upon their breasts before coolly +sheathing his sword and stopping in bravado to take out a cigarette, +light it, and then, calmly smoking, turn his back upon his enemies and +walk round the curve and disappear. + +"There, Punch," said Pen, finishing the loading of his musket; "don't +you tell me again that the French have no brave men amongst them." + +"Well," said the boy slowly, "after that I won't. Do you know, it made +me feel queer." + +"It made me feel I don't know how," said Pen--"half-choking in the +throat." + +"Oh, it didn't make me feel like that," said Punch thoughtfully. "I had +finished reloading before he had felt all his fellows to see if they +were dead, and I could have brought him down as easy as kiss my hand, +but somehow I felt as if it would be a shame, like hitting a chap when +he's down, and so I didn't fire. Then I looked at you, and I could see +you hadn't opened your pan through looking at him. You don't think I +ought to have fired, do you?" + +"You know I don't, Punch," said Pen shortly. "It would have been +cowardly to have fired at a man like that." + +"But I say," said Punch, "wasn't it cheek! It was as good as telling us +that he didn't care a button for us." + +"I don't believe he does," said Pen thoughtfully; "but, I say, Punch, I +shouldn't like to be one of his men." + +"What, them two as we brought down? Of course not!" + +"No, no; I mean those who ran away and left him in the lurch. He's just +the sort of captain who would be ready to lay about him with the flat of +his sword." + +"And serve the cowardly beggars right," cried Punch. "Think they will +come on again?" + +"Come on again, with such a prize as the Spanish King to be made a +prisoner? Yes, and before long too. There, be ready. There'll be +another rush directly." + +There was, and almost before the words were out of Pen's lips. This +time, though, another officer, as far as the lads could make out, was +leading the little detachment, which was about twice as strong as the +last, and the lads fired once more, with the result that two of the +attacking party went down; but instead of the rest turning tail in panic +and rushing back, they followed their officer a dozen yards farther. +Then they began to waver, checked their pace, and stood hesitating; +while, in spite of their officer excitedly shouting and waving his sword +to make them advance, they came to a stand, with the brave fellow some +distance in front, where the lads could hear him shout and rage before +making a dash back at the leading files, evidently with the intention of +flogging them into following him. + +But, damped by the fate of their fellows, it only wanted the appearance +of flight, as they judged the officer's movement, to set them in motion, +and they began to run back in panic, followed by the jeering yells of +the _contrabandistas_, who hurried their pace by sending a scattered +volley from their carbines, not a bullet from which took effect. + +"Look at that, Punch; there's another brave fellow!" + +"Yes," cried the boy, finishing loading. "There, go on, load away, I +don't want you to shoot him. Yes, he's another plucky un. But, my +word, look at him! He must be a-cussing and a-swearing like hooray. +But I call that stupid. He needn't have done that. My word, ain't he +in a jolly rage!" + +Much to the surprise of Pen, the officer did not imitate his fellow who +paused to light a cigarette, but took the point of his sword in his left +hand, stooped down with his back to his enemies, broke the blade in half +across his knee, dashed the pieces to the ground, and then slowly walked +back. + +"Poor fellow!" said Pen thoughtfully. + +"Yes, and poor sword," said Punch. "I suppose he will have to pay for +that out of his own pocket, or have it stopped out of his pay. Oh no; +he's an officer, and finds his own swords. But he was a stupid. Won't +he be sorry for it when he cools down!" + +They were not long kept in suspense as to what would occur next, for +just before he disappeared the lookers-on saw the officer suddenly turn +aside to close up to the natural wail of the little ravine, giving place +to the passage of the stronger party still who came on cheering and +yelling as if to disconcert the sharpshooters who were committing such +havoc in their little detachments. But their effort was in vain, for at +a short interval the two young riflemen once more fired at the dense +little party, which it was impossible to miss. Two men in the front +went down, three or four of their fellows leaped over their prostrate +forms, and then several of those who followed stumbled and fell, panic +ensued, and once more the company was in full flight, followed slowly by +a couple of despondent-looking officers, one of whom turned while the +carbine bullets were flying around him to shake his sword at his +enemies, his fellow taking his cue from this act to contemptuously raise +his _kepi_ in a mocking salute. + +"Here, I won't say anything about the Frenchmen any more," said Punch. +"Why, those officers are splendid! They are just laughing at the +contra-what-you-may-call-'ems, and telling them they can't shoot a bit. +It's just what I thought," he continued, finishing his loading; "those +little dumpy blunderbuss things are no good at all. I suppose that will +about sicken them, won't it?" + +Pen shook his head as he closed the pan of his musket with a sharp +click. + +"The officers will not be satisfied till they have put a stop to our +shooting, Punch." + +"Oh, but they can't," said the boy, with a laugh. "But, I say, I never +thought I could shoot so well as this. Ain't it easy!" + +"No," said Pen quietly. "I think we shot well at first, but here with +our muskets resting steady on the stones in front, and with so many men +to shoot at, we can't help hitting some of them. Hallo! Here comes our +friend." + +For now that the little gorge before them lay open the _contrabandista_ +joined them, to begin addressing his words of eulogy to Pen. + +"Tell your comrade too," he continued, "how proud I am of the way in +which you are holding the enemy in check. I have just come from the +King, and he sends a message to you--a message, he says, to the two +brave young Englishmen, and he wants to know how he can reward you for +all that you have done." + +"Oh, we don't want rewarding," said Pen quietly. "But tell me, is there +any way by which the enemy can take us in the rear?" + +"No," said the smuggler quietly. "But it would be bad for you--and us-- +if they could climb up to the top there and throw pieces of rock down. +But they would want ladders to do that. I am afraid, though--no," he +added; "there's nothing to be afraid of--that they will be coming on +again, and you must keep up your firing till they are so sick of their +losses that they will not be able to get any more of their men to +advance." + +"And what then?" said Pen. + +"Why, then," said the smuggler, "we shall have to wait till it's dark +and see if we can't steal by them and thread our way through the lower +pass, leaving them to watch our empty _cache_." + +Quite a quarter of an hour passed now, and it seemed as if the spirits +of the French chasseurs were too much damped for their officers to get +them to advance again. + +Then there was another rush, with much the same result as before, and +again another and another, and this was kept up at intervals for hours, +till Pen grew faint and heart-sick, his comrade dull and stubborn; and +both were faint too, for the sun had been beating down with torrid +violence so that the heated rocks grew too hot to touch, and the burning +thirst caused by the want of air made the ravine seem to swim before +Pen's eyes. + +But they kept on, and with terrible repetition the scenes of the morning +followed, until, as the two lads reloaded, they rested the hot +musket-barrels before them upon the heated rock and looked full in each +other's eyes. + +"Well, Punch," said Pen hoarsely, "what are you thinking?" + +The boy was silent for a few moments, and then in the horrible stillness +which was repeated between each attack he said slowly, "Just the same as +you are, comrade." + +"That your old wound throbs and burns just the same as mine does?" + +"Oh, it does," said Punch, "and has for ever so long; but I wasn't +thinking that." + +"Then you were thinking, the same as I was, that you were glad that this +horrible business was nearly over, and that these Spanish fellows, who +have done nothing to help us, must now finish it themselves?" + +"Well, not azackly," replied the boy. "What I was thinking was that +it's all over now--as soon as we have had another shot apiece." + +"Yes," said Pen; "one more shot apiece, and we have fired our last +cartridges." + +"But look here," said Punch, "couldn't we manage with powder and shot +from their blunderbusters?" + +"I don't know," said Pen wearily. "I only know this, that I shall be +too heart-sick and tired out to try." + + + +CHAPTER THIRTY FIVE. + +FOR THE KING. + +As the evening drew near, it was to the two young riflemen as if Nature +had joined hands with the enemy and had seemed to bid them stand back +and rest while she took up their work and finished it to the bitter end. + +"It's just as if Nature were fighting against us," said Pen. + +"Nature! Who's she? What's she got to do with it?" grumbled Punch. +"Phew! Just feel here! The sun's as low down as that, and here's my +musket-barrel so hot you can hardly touch it. But I don't know what you +mean." + +"Well, it doesn't matter," said Pen bitterly. "I only meant that, now +the enemy are not coming on, it's growing hotter and hotter, and one's +so thirsty one feels ready to choke." + +"Oh, I see now. It's just the same here. But why don't they come on. +Must be half an hour since they made their last charge, and if they +don't come soon my gun will go off all of itself, and then if they come +I sha'n't have a shot for them. Think they will come now?" + +"Yes," said Pen; "but I believe they are waiting till it's dark and we +sha'n't be able to see to shoot." + +"Why, the cowards!" cried Punch angrily. "The cowardly, mean beggars! +Perhaps you are right; but, I say, comrade, they wouldn't stop till it's +dark if they knew that we had only got one cartridge apiece, and that we +were so stupid and giddy that I am sure I couldn't hit. Why, last time +when they came on they seemed to me to be swimming round and round." + +"Yes, it was horrible," said Pen thoughtfully, as he tried to recollect +the varied incidents of the last charge, and gave up in despair. "I +wish it was all over, Punch!" + +"Well, don't be in such a hurry about that," said the boy. "I wish the +fighting was over, but to wish it was _all_ over sounds ugly. You see, +they must be precious savage with us for shooting as we have, and if +they charge home, as you call it, and find that we haven't got a shot, I +want to know what we are going to do then." + +"I don't feel as if it matters now," said Pen despondently. + +"Oh, don't you! But I do, comrade. It's bad enough to be wounded and a +prisoner; that's all in the regular work; but these Frenchies must be +horribly wild now, and when we can't help ourselves it seems to me that +we sha'n't be safe. You are tired, and your wound bothers you, and no +wonder. It's that makes you talk so grumpy. But it seems to me as if +it does matter. Course soldiers have to take their chance, even if they +are only buglers, and I took mine, and got it. Now my wound's better, I +don't feel like giving up. I feel as if I hadn't half had my innings. +I haven't even got to be what you are--full private. But, I say, it +ain't getting dark yet, is it?" + +"No, Punch. But I feel so giddy I can hardly see." + +"Look out, then!" cried the boy excitedly. "Here they come; and you are +all wrong." + +For the boy had caught sight of another rush being made, with the enemy +scattered wildly; and catching up his musket, Punch fired, while it was +as if mechanically and hardly knowing what he was about that Pen raised +his piece and followed his companion's example. + +What ensued seemed to be part of a nightmare-like dream, during which +Pen once more followed his comrade's example; and, grasping his musket +by the heated barrel he clubbed it and struck out wildly for a few +minutes before he felt that he was borne down, trampled upon, and then +lay half-conscious of what was going on. + +He was in no pain, but felt as if he were listening to something that +was taking place at a distance. There were defiant shouts, there was +the rushing of feet, there was firing. Orders were being given in +French; but what it all meant he could not grasp, till all at once it +seemed to him that it was very dark, and a hot, wet hand was laid upon +his forehead. + +Then a voice came--a familiar voice; but this too seemed to be from far +away, and it did not seem natural that he should be feeling the touch +upon his forehead while the voice came from a distance. + +"I say, they haven't done for you, have they, comrade? Oh, do try to +speak. Tell me where it hurts." + +"Hurts! That you, Punch?" + +"Course it is. Hooray! Where's your wound? Speak up, or I can't make +it out in all this row. Where have you got it?" + +"Got what?" + +"Why, I telled you. The wound." + +"My wound?" said Pen dreamily. Why, you know--in my leg. But it's +better now. So am I. But what does it all mean? Did something hit me +on the head? + +"I didn't half see; but you went down a horrid kelch, and must have hit +your head against the rocks." + +"Yes, yes, I am beginning to understand now. But where are we? What's +going on? Fighting?" + +"Fighting? I should just think there is! Can't you hear?" + +"I can hear the shouting, but I don't quite understand yet." + +"Never mind, then. I was afraid you were done for." + +"Done for! What, killed?" + +"Something of the kind," grumbled Punch; "but don't bother about it +now." + +"I must," said Pen, with what was passing around seeming to lighten up. +"Here, tell me, are my arms fastened behind me?" + +"Yes, and mine too. But I just wriggled one hand out so as to feel for +you. We are prisoners, lad, and the Frenchies have chivied right back +to where the King and his men have been making a bit of a stand. I +can't tell you all azackly, but that's something like it, and I think +they are fighting now--bad luck to them, as O'Grady would say!--right in +yonder where we had our braxfas'. I say, it's better than I thought, +comrade." + +"In what way, Punch?" + +"Why, I had made up my mind, though I didn't like to tell you, that +they'd give us both the bay'net. But they haven't. Perhaps, though, +they are keeping us to shoot through the head because they caught us +along with the smugglers. That's what they always do with them." + +"Well,"--began Pen drearily. + +"No, 'tain't. 'Tain't well, nor anything like it." + +The boy ceased speaking, for the fight that had been raging in the +interior of the cavern seemed to be growing fiercer; in fact, it soon +became plain to the listeners that the tide of warfare was setting in +their direction; the French, who had been driving the _contrabandista's_ +followers backward into the cavern, and apparently carrying all before +them, had met with a sudden check. For a fairly brief space they had +felt that the day was their own, and eager to make up for the long check +they had suffered, principally through the keen firing of the two boys, +they had pressed on recklessly, while the undrilled _contrabandistas_, +losing heart in turn, were beginning, in spite of the daring of their +leader, who seemed to be in every part of their front at once, to drop +back into the cavern, giving way more and more, till at last they had +shrunk some distance into the old mine, bearing back with them the royal +party, who had struggled to restrain them in vain. + +The part of the old workings to which they had retreated was almost in +utter darkness, and just when the French were having their own way and +the Spanish party were giving up in despair, their enemies came to a +stand, the French officers hesitating to continue the pursuit, fearing a +trap, or that they might be led into so dangerous a position that they +might meet with another reverse. + +They felt that where they were they thoroughly commanded the exit, and +after a brief colloquy it was decided to give their men breathing-time +while a party went back into the great cave, where the fire was still +burning, and did what they could to contrive a supply of firebrands or +torches before they made another advance. + +Fortunately for the Spanish party, the cessation of the attack on the +part of the French gave the former breathing-time as well; and, wearied +out though he was, and rather badly wounded, the _contrabandista_ +hurriedly gathered his men together, and though ready to upbraid them +bitterly for the way in which they had yielded to the French attack, he +busied himself instead in trying to prepare them for a more stubborn +resistance when the encounter was resumed. + +He had the advantage of his enemies in this, that they were all +thoroughly well acquainted with the ramifications of the old mine, and +it would be in his power, he felt, to lead the enemy on by giving way +strategically and guiding them where, while they were meeting with great +difficulties in tracing their flying foes, these latter would be able to +escape through one of the old adits and carry with them the King and his +followers. + +The _contrabandista_, too, had this further advantage--that he could +easily refresh his exhausted men, who were now suffering cruelly from +hunger and thirst. To this end he gave his orders quickly to several, +who hurried away, to return at the end of a short time bearing a couple +of skins of wine and bread from their regular store. These refreshments +were hurriedly distributed, the King and his party not being forgotten; +and after all partook most hastily, the men's leader busied himself in +seeing to the worst of the wounded, sending several of these latter into +hiding in a long vault where the mules of the party were stabled ready +to resume their loads when the next raid was made across the passes. + +"Now, my lads," he said, addressing his men, "I am not going to upbraid +you with the want of courage you have shown, only to tell you that when +the French come on again it will most likely be with lights. Those are +what I believe they are waiting for. The poor fools think that torches +will enable them to see us and shoot us down, but they will be to our +advantage. We shall be in the darkness; they will be in the light; and +I am going to lead you in such an attack that I feel sure if you follow +out my instructions we can make them flee. Once get them on the run, it +will be your duty to scatter them and not let them stop. Yes," he +added, turning sharply in the darkness to some one who had touched him +on the shoulder; "who is it?" + +"It is I," said the officer who had taken the lead in the King's flight, +and to whom the whole of the monarch's followers looked for direction. +"His Majesty wants to speak with you." + +"I'll come," replied the _contrabandista_. "Do you know why he wants +me?" + +"Yes," replied the officer briefly. + +"I suppose it is to find fault with me for our want of success." + +"I believe that is the case," said the officer coldly. + +"Ha!" ejaculated the _contrabandista_. "I have as good a right to blame +his Majesty for the meagreness of the help his followers have afforded +me." + +"I have done my best," said the officer gravely, "and so have the rest. +But this is no time for recriminations. I believe you, sir, are a +faithful friend to his Majesty; and I believe you think the same of me." + +"I do," replied the smuggler, "and his Majesty is not to blame for +thinking hard of one who has brought him into such a position as this." + +"Be brief, please," said the officer, "and be frank with me before you +join the King. He feels with me that we are completely trapped, and but +a short time back he went so far as to ask me whether the time had not +come for us all to make a desperate charge upon the enemy, and die like +men." + +The smuggler uttered an ejaculation which the officer misconstrued. + +"I meant for us, sir," he said bitterly, "for I suppose it is possible +that you and your men are sufficiently at home in these noisome passages +to find hiding-places, and finally escape." + +The smuggler laughed scornfully. + +"You speak, sir," he said, "as if you believe that my men would leave +his Majesty to his fate." + +"Their acts to-day have not inspired him with much confidence in them," +said the officer coldly. + +"Well, no," said the smuggler; "but you must consider that my men, who +are perfect in their own pursuits and able enough to carry on a +guerilla-like fight against the Civil Guards in the mountains, have for +the first time in their lives been brought face to face with a body of +well-drilled soldiers ten times their number, and armed with weapons far +superior to ours." + +"That is true," said the officer quietly; "but I expected to have seen +them do more to-day, and, with this strong place to hold, not so ready +to give up as they were." + +"You take it, then," said the smuggler, "that we are beaten?" + +"His Majesty has been the judge, and it is his opinion." + +"His Majesty is a great and good king, then," said the smuggler, "but a +bad judge. We are not beaten. We certainly have the worst of it, and +my poor fellows have been a good deal disheartened, and matters would +have gone far worse with us if it had not been for the clever +marksmanship of those two boys." + +"Ah!" exclaimed the officer, "I may as well come to that. His Majesty +speaks bitterly in the extreme about what he calls the cowardice which +resulted in those two poor lads being mastered and taken prisoners, +perhaps slain, before his eyes." + +"Indeed!" said the smuggler sharply. "But I did not see that his +Majesty's followers did more to save them than my men." + +"There, we had better cease this unfruitful conversation. But before I +take you to his Majesty, who is waiting for us, tell me as man to man, +perhaps face to face with death, what is really our position? You are +beaten, and unable to do more to save the King?" + +The smuggler was silent for a few moments, busily tightening a bandage +round his arm. + +"One moment, sir," he said. "Would you mind tying this?" + +"A wound!" said the officer, starting. + +"Yes, and it bleeds more freely than I could wish, for I want every drop +of blood to spend in his Majesty's service." + +The officer sheathed his sword quickly, bent forward, and, in spite of +the darkness, carefully tightened the bandage. + +"I beg your pardon, Senor el Contrabandista. I trust you more than +ever," he said. "But we are beaten, are we not?" + +"Thanks, senor.--Beaten? No! When my fellows have finished their bread +and wine they will be more full of fight than ever. We smugglers have +plenty of the fox in our nature, and we should not treasure up our rich +contraband stores in a cave that has not two holes." + +"Ha! You put life into me," cried the officer. + +"I wish to," said the smuggler. "Tell his Majesty that in a short time +he will see the Frenchmen coming on lighting their way with torches, and +that he and his followers will show a good front; but do as we do--keep +on retreating farther and farther through the black passages of this old +copper-mine." + +"But retreating?" said the officer. + +"Yes; they will keep pressing us on, driving us back, as they think, +till they can make a rush and capture us to a man--King, noble, and +simple smuggler; and when at last they make their final rush they will +capture nothing but the darkness, for we shall have doubled round by one +of the side-passages and be making our way back into the passes to find +liberty and life." + +"But one moment," said a stern voice from the deeper darkness behind. +"What of the entrance to this great cavern-mine? Do you think these +French officers are such poor tacticians that they will leave the +entrance unguarded by a body of troops?" + +"One entrance, sire," said the smuggler deferentially. + +"Your Majesty!" said the officer, "I did not know that you were within +hearing." + +"I had grown weary of waiting, Count," said the King. "I came on, and I +have heard all that I wished. Senor Contrabandista, I, your King, ask +your pardon. I ask it as a bitterly stricken, hunted man who has been +driven by his misfortunes to see enemies on every hand, and who has +grown accustomed to lead a weary life, halting ever between doubt and +despair." + +"Your Majesty trusts me then," said the smuggler, sinking upon one knee +to seize the hand that was extended to him and pressing it to his lips. + +"Ha!" ejaculated the monarch. "Your plans are those of a general; but +there is one thing presses hard upon me. For hours I was watching the +way in which those two boys held the enemy at bay, fighting in my poor +cause like heroes; and again and again as I stood watching, my fingers +tingled to grasp my sword and lead my few brave fellows to lend them +aid. But it was ever the same: I was hemmed in by those who were ready +to give their lives in my defence, and I was forced to yield to their +assurances that such an advance would be not merely to throw their lives +away and my own, but giving life to the usurper, death to Spain." + +"They spoke the truth, sire," said the smuggler gravely. + +"But tell me," cried the King with a piteous sigh, "can nothing be done? +Your men, you say, will be refreshed. My friends here are as ready as +I am. Before you commence the retreat, can we not, say, by a bold dash, +drive them past where those two young Englishmen lie prisoners at the +back of the little stonework they defended so bravely till the last +cartridge was fired away? You do not answer," said the King. + +"Your Majesty stung me to the heart," said the _contrabandista_, "in +thinking that I played a coward's part in not rescuing those two lads." + +"I hoped I had condoned all that," said the King quickly. + +"You have, sire, and perhaps it is the weakness and vanity in my nature +that makes me say in my defence, I and half-a-dozen of my men made as +brave an effort as we could, twice over, when the French made their +final rush, and each time my poor fellows helped me back with a +bayonet-wound.--Ah! what I expected!" he exclaimed hastily, for there +was a flickering light away in front, followed by another and another, +and the sound of hurrying feet, accompanied by the clicking of gun and +pistol lock as the _contrabandistas_ gathered together, rested and +refreshed, and ready for action once again. + + + +CHAPTER THIRTY SIX. + +IN THE ROUT. + +It is one thing--or two things--to make plans mentally or upon paper, +and another thing to carry them out. A general lays down his plan of +campaign, but a dozen hazards of the war may tend to baffle and spoil +courses which seem as they are laid down sure ways leading to success. + +The _contrabandista_ chief had made his arrangements in a way that when +he explained them made his hearers believe that nothing could be better. +His reluctant silence respecting the position of the two lads had +impressed the Spanish King with the belief that he considered the young +riflemen's situation to be hopeless, and that he felt that he had done +everything possible. + +In fact, he doubted their being alive, and the possibility, even if they +still breathed where they were struck down, of forcing his way through +the strong force of French that occupied the mine, and reaching their +side. Above all, he felt that he would not be justified in risking the +lives of many men for the sake of two. + +And now the flickering lights in the distance told that the French had +somehow contrived the means for making their way through the darkness +easier. They had evidently been busy breaking up case and keg, starting +the brands thoroughly in the fire, and keeping them well alight by their +bearers brandishing them to and fro as they advanced, with the full +intent of driving the Spaniards into some cul-de-sac among the ancient +workings of the mine, and there bayoneting them or forcing them to lay +down their arms. + +All this was in accordance with the orders given by the French officers, +and the chasseurs advanced perfect in their parts and with a bold front. +But the _contrabandista's_ followers and those of the King were also as +perfect in what they would do, and they knew exactly that they were to +fire and bring down their adversaries as they had an opportunity given +them by their exposure in the light, and after firing they were to lead +the untouched on by an orderly retreat, thus tempting the enemy farther +and farther into the winding intricacies of the old workings. + +Those advancing and those in retreat began to carry out their orders +with exactitude; the chasseurs cheered and advanced in about equal +numbers, torch-bearers and musketeers with fixed bayonets, the former +waving their burning brands, and all cheering loudly as in the distance +they caught sight of those in retreat; but it was only to find as the +rattle and echoing roll of carbine and pistol rang out and smoke began +to rise, that they were forming excellent marks for those who fired, and +before they had advanced, almost at a run, fifty yards, the mine-floor +was becoming dotted with those who were wounded and fell. + +The distance between the advancing and retreating lines remained about +the same, but the pace began to slacken, the run soon became a walk, and +a very short time afterwards a stand on the part of those who attacked, +and the smoke of the pieces began to grow more dense as the firing +increased. + +Orders kept on ringing out as the French officers shouted "Forward!" but +in vain, and the light that, as they ran, had flashed brilliantly, as +they stood began to pale, and the well-drilled men who now saw a dense +black curtain of smoke before them, riven here and there by flashes of +light, began to hesitate, then to fall back, slowly at first, and before +many paces to the rear had been taken they found the light begin to +increase again and more men fell. + +That pause had been the turning-point, for from a slow falling back the +pace grew swifter, the waving and tossing lights burned more brightly, +and those who fired sent ragged volley after volley in amongst the now +clearly seen chasseurs; while the Spaniards, forgetful now of the +commands they had received, kept on advancing, in fact, pursuers in +their turn, firing more eagerly as each few steps took them clear of the +cloud of smoke which they left behind. + +It was a completely unexpected change of position. The French officers +shouted their commands, and the _contrabandista_ captain gave forth his, +but in both cases it was in vain, for almost before he could realise the +fact a panic had seized upon chasseur and torch-bearer alike, and soon +all were in flight--a strangely weird medley of men whose way was lit up +by the lights that were borne and blazed fiercely on their side, while +their pace was hastened by the firing in their rear. + +It was only a matter of some few minutes before the French officers +found that all their attempts to check the rout were in vain. + +The hurry of the flight increased till the darkness of the mine-passage +was left behind and all raced onward through the great store-cavern and +out into the narrow gully, now faint in the evening light, and on past +the rough stone-piled defences, where the officers once more tried to +check the headlong flight. + +Here their orders began to have some effect, for there were dead and +wounded lying in the way, and some from breathlessness, some from shame, +now slackened their pace and stooped to form litters of their muskets, +on which some poor wretch who was crying for help with extended hands +was placed and carried onward. + +And somehow, in the confusion of the flight, as the fallen wounded were +snatched up in the semi-darkness from where they lay, the last burning +brand having been tossed aside as useless by those who could now see +their way, two of the wounded who lay with their arms secured behind +them with straps were lifted and borne onward, for those who were now +obeying their officers' orders were too hurried and confused, hastened +as they were in their movements by the rattle and crash of firearms in +their rear, to scrutinise who the wounded were. It was sufficient for +them that they were not wearers of the rough _contrabandista's_ garb; +and so it was that the dark-green uniform of the bandaged wounded was +enough, and the two young riflemen became prisoners and participators in +the chasseurs' rout. + + + +CHAPTER THIRTY SEVEN. + +AFTER "WIGGLING." + +"Where do you suppose we are, Punch?" + +"Don't quite know," was the reply. "Chap can't think with his arms +strapped behind him and his wrists aching sometimes as if they were sawn +off and at other times being all pins and needles. Can you think?" + +"Not very clearly; and it has been too dark to see much. But where +should you say we are? Quite in a new part of the country?" + +"No; I think we came nearly over the same ground as we were going after +we left that good old chap's cottage; and if we waited till it was quite +daylight, and we could start off, I think I could find my way back to +where we left the old man." + +"So do I," said Pen eagerly. "That must be the mountain that the +_contrabandista_ captain took us up in the darkness." + +"Why, that's what I was thinking," said Punch; "and if we had gone on a +little farther I think we should have got to the place where the +Frenchies attacked us. Of course I ain't sure, because it was all in +the darkness. But, I say, Mr Contrabando and his fellows have given up +the pursuit. I haven't heard anything of them for hours now." + +"No," said Pen; "we may be sure that they have given it up, else we +shouldn't be halted here. I fancy, Punch--but, like you, I can't be +sure--that the Frenchmen have been making for the place where they +surprised us after being driven down the mountain pass." + +"That's it," said Punch; "and our friends, after beating off the enemy, +have gone back to their what-you-may-call-it quarters--mine, didn't they +call it?" + +"Yes." + +"Well, then, that's what we have got to do--get away from here and go +back and join Mr Contrabando again." + +"Impossible, Punch, even if we were free." + +"Not it! Why, I could do it in the dark if I could only get rid of +these straps, now that the Frenchies are beaten." + +"Not beaten, Punch; only driven back, and I feel pretty sure in thinking +it out that they have come to a halt here in what I dare say is a good, +strong place where they can defend themselves and wait for +reinforcements before attacking again." + +"Oh, they won't do that," said Punch roughly. "They had such a sickener +last night." + +"Well, I can't be sure," said Pen; "but as far as I can make out they +have a lot of wounded men lying about here in this bit of a valley, and +there are hundreds of them camped down about the fires. They wouldn't +have lit those fires if it hadn't been a strong place." + +"I suppose not," said Punch. "I never thought of that. Because they +would have been afraid to show the smugglers where they were, and it +sounded when they were talking as if there were hundreds and hundreds of +them--regiments, I think. One couldn't see in the night, but while I +was lying awake I thought there were thousands of them." + +"Say hundreds, Punch. Well, I haven't spoken to you much lately, for I +thought you were asleep." + +"Asleep! Not me! That's what I thought about you; and I hoped you was, +so that you could forget what a muddle we got into. Well, I don't know +how you feel now, but what I want to do is to get away from here." + +"Don't talk so loud," said Pen; "there are those fellows on sentry, and +they keep on coming very near now and then." + +"That don't matter," said Punch, "they can't understand what we talk +about. What do you say to having a go at getting our arms loose?" + +"They would find it out, and only bind us up again." + +"Yes, if we stopped to let 'em see." + +"Then you think we could get away, Punch?" + +"To be sure I do; only we should have to crawl. And the sooner the +better, for once it gets light the sentries will have a shot at us, and +we have had enough of that. I say, though, didn't they pick us up +because they thought we were wounded?" + +"The men did; and then one of the officers saw our uniforms and that we +were the two who had been taken prisoners when they made their rush." + +"Oh, that was it, was it?" said Punch. "Well, what do you say? Hadn't +we better make a start?" + +"How?" said Pen. "I have been trying again and again to get my arms +loose, and I am growing more helpless than ever." + +Punch gave a low grunt, raised his head a little, and tried to look +round and pierce the darkness, seeing very little though but the fact +that they were surrounded by wounded men, for the most part asleep, +though here and there was one who kept trying to move himself into an +easier position, but only to utter a low moan and relapse into a state +of semi-insensibility. + +About a dozen paces away, though, he could just make out one of the +sentries leaning upon his musket and with his back to them. Satisfied +with his scrutiny, Punch shifted his position a little, drawing himself +into a position where he could get his lips close to his companion's +ear. + +"Look here," he said, "can you bite?" + +"Bite! Nonsense! Who could think of eating now?" + +"Tchah!" whispered Punch, "who wants to eat? I have been wiggling +myself about quietly ever since they set me down, and I have got my +hands a bit loose. Now, I am just going to squirm myself a bit farther +and turn over when I have got my hands about opposite your mouth, and I +want you to set-to with your teeth and try hard to draw the tongue of +the strap out of the buckle, for it's so loose now that I think you +could do it." + +"Ah! I'll try, Punch," whispered Pen. + +"Then if you try," said the boy, "you'll do it. I know what you are." + +"Don't talk, then," replied Pen excitedly, "but turn over at once. Why +didn't you think of this before? We might have tried at once, and had a +better chance, for it will be light before long." + +"Didn't think of it. My arms hurt so that they made me stupid." + +Giving himself a wrench, the boy managed to move forward a little, +turned over, and then worked himself so that he placed his bandaged +wrists close to his comrade's mouth, and then lay perfectly still, for +the sentry turned suddenly as if he had heard the movement. + +Apparently satisfied, though, that all was well, he changed his position +again, and then, to the great satisfaction of the two prisoners, he +shouldered his musket and began to pace up and down, coming and going, +and halting at last at the far end of his beat. + +Then, full of doubt but eager to make an effort, Pen set to work, felt +for the buckle, and after several tries got hold of the strap in his +teeth, tugging at it fiercely and with his heart sinking more and more +at every effort, for he seemed to make no progress. + +Twice over, after tremendous efforts that he half-fancied loosened his +teeth, he gave up what seemed to be an impossibility; but he was roused +upon each occasion by an impatient movement on the part of Punch. + +"It's of no use," he thought. "I am only punishing myself more and +more;" and, fixing his teeth firmly once more in the leather, he gave +one shake and tug such as a wild beast might have done in worrying an +enemy. With one final drag he jerked his head back and lay still with +his jaws throbbing and the sensation upon him that he had injured +himself so that several of his teeth had given way. + +"It's no good. It's of no use, Punch," he said to himself; for the boy +shook his wrists sharply as if to urge him to begin again. "I can't do +it, and I won't try;" when to his astonishment he felt that his comrade +was moving and had forced himself back with a low, dull, rustling sound +so that he could place his lips to his ear again; and to Pen's surprise +the boy whispered, "That last did it, and I got the strap quite loose. +My! How my wrists do ache! Just wait a bit, and then I will pull you +over on to your face and have a turn at yours." + +Pen felt too much confused to believe that his companion had succeeded, +but he lay perfectly still, with his teeth still aching violently, till +all at once he felt Punch's hands busy about him, and he was jerked over +upon his face. + +Then he felt that the boy had raised himself up a little as if to take +an observation of their surroundings before busying himself with the +straps that bound his numbed wrists. + +"Lie still," was whispered, "don't flinch; but I have got my knife out, +and I am going to shove it under the strap. Don't holloa if it hurts." + +Pen set his aching teeth hard, and the next minute he felt the point of +the long Spanish clasp-knife which his comrade carried being thrust +beneath one of the straps. + +"He will cut me," thought Pen, for he knew that the pressure of the +strap had made his flesh swell so that the leather was half-bedded in +his arm; but setting his teeth harder--the pain he felt there was more +intense--while, when the knife-blade was being forced under the strap he +only suffered a dull sensation, and then grew conscious that as the +knife was being thrust beneath the strap it steadily divided the bond, +so that directly after there was a dull sound and the blade had forced +its way so thoroughly that the severed portions fell apart; sensation +was so much dulled in the numbed limbs that he was hardly conscious of +what had been done, but he knew that one extremely tight ligature had +ceased its duty, though he could hardly grasp the idea that one of his +bonds was cut. + +Then a peculiar throbbing sensation came on, so painful that it diverted +the lad's attention from the continuation of Punch's task, and before he +could thoroughly grasp it Pen found that the sharp blade had been thrust +under another strap, dividing it so that the leather fell apart, and he +was free. + +But upon his making an effort to put this to the proof it seemed as if +his arms were like two senseless pieces of wood; but only for a few +minutes, till they began to prove themselves limbs which were bearers of +the most intense agony. + +_Click_! went Punch's closing knife-blade; and then he whispered, +"That's done it! Now, when you are ready, lead off right between those +sleeping chaps. Creep, you know, in case the sentry looks round." + +"A minute first," whispered Pen; "my arms are like lead." + +"So's mine. I say, don't they ache?" + +Pen made no reply, but lay breathing hard for a time; and then, raising +his head a little so as to make sure of the safest direction to take, he +turned towards his comrade and whispered, "Now then: off!" + + + +CHAPTER THIRTY EIGHT. + +"HEAR THAT?" + +It was still dark, but there were faint suggestions of the coming day +when Pen began to creep in the direction of a black patch which he felt +must be forest. + +This promised shelter; but he had first to thread his way amongst the +wounded who lay sleeping around, and his difficulty was to avoid +touching them, for they apparently lay thickest in the direction he had +chosen. + +Before he was aware of what he was doing he had laid his inert right +hand upon an outstretched arm, which was drawn back with a sharp wince, +and its owner uttered a groan. Bearing to the left and whispering to +Punch to take care, Pen crept on, to find himself almost in contact with +another sufferer, who said something incoherently; and then a whisper +from Punch checked his companion. + +"Come on," said Pen hastily, "or they will give the alarm." + +"Not they, poor chaps! They are too bad. That sentry isn't coming, is +he?" + +Pen glanced in the man's direction, but he was not visible, for some low +bushes intervened. + +"I can't see him," said Pen. + +"Then look here, comrade; now's our time. It's all fair in war. Every +man for himself." + +"What do you mean? Don't stop to talk, but come on." + +"All right; but just this," came back in a whisper. "They can't help +themselves, and won't take any notice whatever we do, unless they think +we are going to kill them. Help yourself, comrade, the same as I do." + +Pen hesitated for a moment. Then, as he saw Punch busily taking +possession of musket and cartouche-belt, he followed his example. + +"It's for life, perhaps," he thought. + +He had no difficulty in furnishing himself with the required arms from a +pile, and that too without any of the wounded seeming to pay the +slightest attention. + +"Ready?" whispered Punch. "Got a full box?" + +"Yes," was the answer. + +"Sling your musket then. Look sharp, for it's getting light fast." + +Directly after the two lads were crawling onward painfully upon hands +and knees, for every yard sent a pang through Pen's wrists, and he +thoroughly appreciated his comrade's advice, for there were moments when +he felt that had he been carrying the musket he would certainly have +left it behind. + +He did not breathe freely till he had entered the dark patch of +woodland, where it was fairly open, and they had pressed on but a short +distance in the direction of the mountain, which high up began to look +lighter against the sky, when he started violently, for the clear notes +of a bugle rang out from somewhere beyond the spot where the wounded +lay, to be answered away to left and right over and over again, teaching +plainly enough that it was the reveille, and also that they were in +close proximity to a very large body of troops. + +"Just in time, comrade," said Punch coolly, as he rose to his feet. + +"Take care!" cried Pen. "It isn't safe to stand up yet." + +"Think not? Oh, we shall be all right," replied the boy. "Lead on. +Didn't you know? The reveille was going right behind and off to the +left and right; so there's no troops in front, and all we have got to do +is to get on as fast as we can up the mountain yonder. And it's no +good; I must walk. My wristies are so bad that if I try to crawl any +more on my hands they will drop off. Ain't yours bad?" + +"Terribly," replied Pen. + +"Come on, then; we must risk it. There, right incline. Can't you see? +There's a bit of a track yonder." + +"I didn't see it, Punch," said Pen, as they bore off to their right, +where the way was more open, and they increased their pace now to a +steady walk, a glance back showing them that they were apparently well +screened by the low growth of trees which flourished in the bottom +slopes of the mountains that they could now see more clearly rising in +front. + +"We've done it, comrade," said Punch cheerily, "and I call this a bit of +luck." + +"Don't talk so loudly." + +"Oh, it don't matter," replied the boy. "They're making too much noise +themselves to hear us. Hark at them! Listen to the buzz! Why, it's +just as if there's thousands of them down there, just as you thought; +and we've hit on the right way, for those Frenchies wouldn't come +through here unless it was skirmishing with the enemy in front. Their +enemy's all behind, and they'll be thinking about making their way back +to the mine." + +"To see if they can't make up for yesterday's reverses. I'm afraid, +Punch, it's all over with the poor King and his followers." + +"Yes," said Punch thoughtfully, as he trudged on as close as he could +get to his companion. "It's a bad lookout for them, comrade; but +somehow I seem to think more of Mr Contrabando. I liked him. Good +luck to the poor chap! And when we get a bit farther on we will pitch +upon a snug spot where there's water, and make a bit of breakfast." + +"Breakfast! How?" said Pen, smiling; but, wearied out and faint with +his sufferings, it was a very poor exhibition of mirth--a sort of smile +and water, like that of a sun-gleam upon a drizzly day. "Breakfast!" he +said, half-scornfully, "You are always thinking of eating, Punch." + +"That I ain't, only at bugle-time, when one blows `soup and tater' for +breakfast or dinner. I say, do you know what the cavalry chaps say the +trumpet call is for stables?" + +"No," said Pen quietly; and then to humour his companion he tried to +smile again, as the boy said, "Oh, I know lots of them! This is what +the trumpet says for the morning call:-- + + "Ye lads that are able + Now come to the stable, + And give all your horses some water and hay-y-y-y!" + +And the boy put his half-crippled fist to his lips and softly rang out +the cavalry call. + +"Punch!" whispered Pen angrily, "how can you be such a fool?" + +"Tchah! Nobody can hear us. I wanted to cheer you up a bit. Well, it +has stirred you up. There: all right, comrade. For'ard! We are safe +enough here. But, I say, what made you jump upon me and tell me I was +always thinking about eating when I said breakfast?" + +"Because this is no time to think of eating and drinking." + +"Oh my! Ain't it?" chuckled the boy. "Why, when you are on the march +in the enemy's country you ought to be always on the forage, and it's +the time to think of breakfast whenever you get the chance." + +"Of course," said Pen. + +"Well, ain't we got the chance? We was too busy to think of eating all +yesterday, and while we were lying tied up there like a couple of calves +in a farmer's cart." + +"Well, are we much better off now, Punch?" + +"Much better--much better off! I should think we are! It was talking +about poor Mr Contrabando that made me think of it. Poor chap! I hope +he will be able to repulse, as you call it, the Frenchies at the next +attack. He is well provisioned; that's one comfort. And didn't he +provision us? My haversack's all right with what I helped myself to at +breakfast yesterday. Ain't yours?" + +Pen clapped his hand to his side. "No," he said. "The band was torn +off, and it's gone." + +"What a pity! Never mind, comrade. Mine's all right, and regular +bulgy; and, as they say, what's enough for one is enough for two; so +that will be all right. I say, ain't it getting against the collar?" + +"Yes, we are on the mountain-slope, Punch." + +"Think we are not getting up the same mountain where the old mine is?" + +"No, Punch. That must be off more to the right, I think." + +"Yes, I suppose so. But of course we ain't sure; and I suppose we are +not going anywhere near the old _padre's_ place?" + +"No, Punch; that lies farther away still to the right." + +"Yes. But, I say, how you seem to get it into your head where all the +places lie! I can't. It seems to me as if you could make a map." + +"No, no. But I suppose if I wandered about here for long enough I +should be able to make out some of the roads and tracks." + +"Then I suppose you haven't been here long enough," said the boy +banteringly. "If you had, you would be able to tell where the British +army is, and lead right on to it at once." + +"That would be rather a hard job, Punch, when troops are perhaps +changing their quarters every day." + +"I say, hear that?" said the boy excitedly, as a distant call rang out. + +"Yes, plain enough to hear," replied Pen. + +"Then we ought to turn back, oughtn't we?" + +"No. Why?" + +"Some of the Frenchies in front. That was just before us, half a mile +away." + +Pen shook his head, and the boy looked at him wonderingly. + +"There! There it is again! Let's get into hiding somewhere, or we +shall be running right into them." + +For another clear bugle-note rang out as if in answer to the first. + +"That's nothing to mind, Punch," said Pen. "These notes came from +behind, and were echoed from the mountain in front." + +"Why, of course! But I can't help it. Father always said that I had +got the thickest head he ever see. I got thinking that we were going to +run right into some French regiment. Then it's all right, and we shall +be able to divide our rations somewhere up yonder where the echoes are +playing that game. I say, what a mistake might be made if some officer +took an echo like that for the real thing!" + +"Yes," said Pen thoughtfully; and the two lads stopped and listened to +different repetitions of the calls, which seemed fainter and fainter as +the time went on; and the sun was well up, brightening as lovely a +landscape of mountain, glen, and green slope as ever met human eye. + +But it was blurred to Pen by the desolation and wildness of a country +that was being ravaged by invasion and its train of the horrors of war. + +As the lads tramped on, seeing no sign of human habitation, not even a +goat-herd's hut on the mountain-slopes, the sun grew hotter and the way +more weary, till all at once Punch pointed to a few goats just visible +where the country was growing more rugged and wild. + +"See that, comrade?" he cried. + +"Yes, goats," said Pen wearily; and he stopped short, to throw himself +down upon a heathery patch, and removed his cap to wipe his perspiring +forehead. + +"No, no; don't sit down. Don't stop yet," cried Punch. "I didn't mean +those old goats. Look away to the left in that hollow. Can't you see +it sparkling?" And the boy pointed to the place where a little rivulet +was trickling down the mountain-side to form a fall, the water making a +bright leap into a fair-sized pool. "Let's get up yonder first and sit +down and see what I have got in my haversack. Then a good drink of +water, and we shall be able to go on, and perhaps find where our fellows +are before night." + +"Yes, Punch--or march right into the lines of the French," said Pen +bitterly. + +"Oh, well, we must take our chance of that, comrade. One's as likely as +the other. There's the French troops about, and there's our English +lads--the lads in red as well as the boys in green. No, it's no use to +be down in the mouth. We are just as likely to find one as the other. +I wonder how they are getting on up there in the old mine. Shall we be +near enough to hear if there's any fighting going on?" + +"Perhaps," said Pen, springing up. "But let's make for that water." + +But it was farther off than it had at first appeared, and it was nearly +half an hour after they had startled the browsing goats when the two +weary lads threw themselves down with a sigh of content beside the +mountain pool, which supplied them with delicious draughts of clear cold +water as an accompaniment to the contents of the haversack which Punch's +foresight had provided. + +"Ah!" sighed the boy. "'Lishus, wasn't it?" + +"Yes, delicious," said Pen. + +"Only one thing agin it," said Punch. + +"One thing against it," said Pen, looking up, "Why, it could not have +been better." + +"Yes," said the boy sadly. "It waren't half enough." + +"Hark! Listen!" said Pen, holding up his hand. + +"Guns firing!" exclaimed Punch in a whisper. "Think that's in the +little valley that leads up to the old mine?" + +"It's impossible to say," replied Pen. "It's firing, sure enough, and a +long way off; but I can't tell whether it's being replied to or whether +we are only listening to the echoes." + +"Anyhow," said Punch, "it's marching orders, and I suppose we ought to +get farther away." + +"Yes," replied Pen with a sigh. "But how do you feel? Ready to go on +now?" + +"No, not a bit. I feel as if I want to take off my coat and bathe my +arms in the water here, for they ache like hooray." + +"Do it, then," said Pen wearily, "and I must do the same to my wound as +well; and then, Punch, there's only one thing I can do more." + +"What's that, comrade?" + +"Get in the shade under that grey-looking old olive, and have a few +hours' sleep." + +"Splendour!" said Punch, taking off his coat. "Hark at the firing!" + +"Yes," said Pen wearily, as he followed his comrade's example. "They +may fire, but I am so done up that they can't keep me awake." + +The water proved to be a delicious balm for the bruised limbs and the +wound--a balm so restful and calming to the nerves that somehow the sun +had long set, and the evening star was shining brilliantly in the soft +grey evening sky when the two sleepers, who had lain utterly unconscious +for hours, started awake together, wondering what it all meant, and then +prepared themselves to face the darkness of the coming night, not +knowing what fate might bring; but Pen felt a strange chill run through +his breast with a shiver as Punch exclaimed in a low, warning whisper, +"I say, comrade, hear that? Wolves?" + + + +CHAPTER THIRTY NINE. + +STRUNG-UP. + +"Or dogs," said Pen angrily. "What a fellow you are, Punch! Don't you +think we had enough to make us low-spirited and miserable without you +imagining that the first howl you hear comes from one of those horrible +brutes?" + +"It's all very well," said Punch with a shudder. "I have heard dogs +enough in my time. Why, I used to be once close to the kennel where +they kept the foxhounds, and they used to set-to and sing sometimes all +at once. Then I have heard shut-up dogs howl all night, and other sorts +begin to howl when it was moonlight; but I never heard a dog make a +noise like that. I am sure it's wolves." + +"Well, perhaps you are right, Punch; but I suppose they never attack +people except in the winter-time when they are starving and the ground's +covered with snow; and this is summer, and they have no reason for +coming down from the mountains." + +"Oh, I say," exclaimed the boy, "haven't they just!" + +"Will you hold your tongue, Punch!" cried Pen angrily. "This is a nice +way to prepare ourselves for a tramp over the mountains, isn't it?" + +"Are we going to tramp over the mountains in the night?" said the boy +rather dolefully. + +"Yes, and be glad of the opportunity to get farther away from the French +before morning." + +"But won't it be very bad for your leg, comrade?" + +"No worse than it will be for your back, Punch." + +"But wouldn't it be better if we had a good rest to-night?" + +"Where?" said Pen bluntly. + +"In some goat-keeper's cottage. We saw goats before we came here, and +there must be people who keep them." + +"Perhaps so," said Pen; "but I have seen no cottages." + +"We ain't looked," said Punch. + +"No, and I don't think it would be very wise to look for them in the +dark. Come, Punch, don't be a coward." + +"I ain't one; but I can't stand going tramping about in these mountains +with those horrid beasts hunting you, smelling you out and following you +wherever you go." + +"I don't believe they would dare to come near us if we shouted at them," +said Pen firmly; "and we needn't be satisfied with that, for if they +came near and we fired at them they would never come near us again." + +"Yes, we have got the guns," said the boy; and he unslung the one he +carried and began to try the charge with the ramrod. "Hadn't you better +see if yours is all right too?" he said. + +"Perhaps I had," was the reply, "for we might have to use them for +business that had nothing to do with wolves." + +As he spoke, Pen followed his comrade's example, driving the cartridge +and bullet well home, and then feeling whether the powder was up in the +pan. + +"Oh, I say," cried the boy huskily, "there they go again! They're +coming down from high up the mountains. Hadn't we better go lower down +and try and find some cottage?" + +"I don't think so," said Pen sturdily. + +"But we might find one, you know--an empty one, just the same as we did +before, when my back was so bad. Then we could shut ourselves in and +laugh at the wolves if they came." + +"We don't want to laugh at the wolves," said Pen jocularly. "And it +might make them savage. I know I used to have a dog and I could always +put him in a rage by laughing at him and calling him names." + +"And now you are laughing at me. I can't help it. I am ashamed +perhaps; but, knowing what I do about the wolves, and what our chaps +have seen--Ugh! It's horrid! There they go again. Let's get lower +down." + +"To where the French are lying in camp, so that they may get hold of us +again? Nonsense, Punch! What was the good of our slipping away if it +was only to give ourselves up?" + +"But we didn't know then that we should run up against these wolves." + +"We are not going to run up against them, Punch, but they are going to +run away from us if we behave like men." + +"But, don't you see, I can't behave like a man when I'm only a boy? Oh, +there they go again!" half-whispered the poor fellow, who seemed +thoroughly unnerved. "Come along, there's a good chap." + +"No," said Pen firmly. "You can't behave like a man, but you can behave +like a brave boy, and that's what you are going to do. If we ever get +back to our company you wouldn't like me to tell the lads that you were +so frightened by the howling of the wolves that you let me go on alone +to face them, and--" + +"Here, I say," cried Punch excitedly, "you don't mean to say that you +would go on alone!" + +"I mean to say I would," said Pen firmly; "but I shall not have to, +because you are coming on along with me." + +"No, I ain't," said the boy stubbornly. + +"Yes, you are." + +"You don't know," continued the boy, through his set teeth. "Hanged if +I do--so there!" + +Pen laughed bitterly. + +"Well, you are a queer fellow, Punch," he said. "You stood by me +yesterday and faced dozens of those French chasseurs, and fought till we +had fired off our last cartridge, and then set-to to keep them off with +the butt of your musket, though you were quite sure they would come on +again and again." + +"Perhaps I did," said the boy huskily, "because I felt I ought to as a +soldier, and it was dooty; but 'tain't a soldier's dooty to get torn to +pieces by wolves. Ugh! It's horrid, and I can't bear it." + +"Come on, Punch. I am going." + +"No, don't! I say, pray don't, comrade!" cried the boy passionately; +and he caught at Pen's arm and clung to it with all his might. "I tell +you I'd shoulder arms, keep touch with you, and keep step and march +straight up to a regiment of the French, with the bullets flying all +about our ears. I wouldn't show the white once till I dropped. You +know I'd be game if it was obeying orders, and all our fellows coming on +behind. I tell you I would, as true as true!" + +"What!" said Pen, turning upon him firmly, "you would do that if you +were ordered?" + +"That I would, and I wouldn't flinch a bit. You know I never did," +cried the boy passionately. "Didn't I always double beside my +company-leader, and give the calls whenever I was told?" + +"Yes; and now I am going to be your company-leader to-night. Now then, +my lad, forward!" + +Pen jerked his arm free and stepped off at once, while his comrade +staggered with the violence of the thrust he had received. Then, +recovering himself, he stood fast, struggling with the stubborn rage +that filled his young breast, till Pen was a dozen paces in front, +marching sturdily on in the direction of the howls that they had heard, +and without once looking back. + +Then from out of the silence came the boy's voice. + +"You'll be sorry for this," he shouted. + +Pen made no reply. + +"Oh, it's too bad of him," muttered Punch. "I say," he shouted, "you +will be sorry for this, comrade. D'ye 'ear?" + +Tramp, tramp, tramp went Pen's feet over the stony ground. + +"Oh, I say, comrade, this is too bad!" whimpered the boy; and then, +giving his musket one or two angry slaps as if in an exaggerated salute, +he shouldered the piece and marched steadily after his leader. + +Pen halted till the boy closed up, and then started again. + +"There, Punch," he said quietly, "I knew you better than you know +yourself." + +The boy made no reply, but marched forward with his teeth set; and +evidently now thoroughly strung-up to meet anything that was in store, +he stared straight before him into the darkness and paid no heed to the +distant howls that floated to them upon the night-air from time to time. + + + +CHAPTER FORTY. + +FRIENDS OR FOES? + +"This is rather hard work, Punch, lad," said Pen, after a long silence; +but the boy took no notice. "The ground's so rugged that I've nearly +gone down half-a-dozen times. Well, haven't you anything to say?" + +The boy kept his teeth firmly pressed together and marched on in +silence; and the night tramp went on for quite a couple of hours, till, +growing wearied out by the boy's determination, Pen began again to try +and break the icy reserve between them. + +"What a country this is!" he said. "To think of our going on hour after +hour never once seeing a sign of any one's dwelling-place. Ah, look at +that!" he exclaimed excitedly. "Do you see that light?" + +"Yes," said Punch sulkily, "a wolf's eye staring at us." + +"Then he's got one shut," said Pen, laughing softly. "I can only see +one. Why, you are thinking of nothing else but wolves. It's a little +watch-fire far away." + +Punch lowered his piece quickly and cocked it. + +"Look out, comrade," he said, "some one will challenge directly. Drop +down together, don't us, if he does?" + +"I don't think they will be sentries right up here," said Pen. + +"What then?" + +"Shepherds," replied Pen abruptly. + +He was about to add, "to keep off the wolves," but he checked himself in +time, as he half-laughed and thought that it would scare his companion +again. + +Punch remained silent and marched on, keeping step, till they were +getting very close to a tiny scrap of a smouldering fire; and then there +was a rush of feet as if about a couple of dozen goats had been +startled, to spring up and scatter away, with their horny hoofs +pattering amongst the stones; and at the same moment the two lads became +aware of the fact that after their habit the sturdy little animals had +been sleeping around a couple of fierce-looking, goatskin-clothed, +half-savage Spanish goat-herds, one of whom kicked at the fire, making +it burst into a temporary blaze which lit up their swarthy features and +flashed in their eyes, and, what was more startling still, on the blades +of the two long knives which they snatched from their belts. + +"_Amigos, amigos_!" cried Pen, and he grounded arms, Punch following his +example. + +"_Amigos! No, Franceses_," shouted one of the men, as the fire burnt up +more brightly; and he pointed at Pen's musket. + +"_No_," cried Pen, "_Ingleses_." And laying down his piece near the +fire, he coolly seated himself and began to warm his hands. "Come on, +Punch," he said, "sit down; and give me your haversack." + +The boy obeyed, and as the two men looked at them doubtingly Pen took +the haversack, held it out, thrust his hand within two or three times, +and shook his head before pointing to his lips and making signs as if he +wanted to eat. + +"_El pano, agua_," he said. + +The men turned to gaze into each other's eyes as if in doubt, and then +began slowly to thrust their long, sharp knives into their belts; and it +proved directly afterwards that Pen's pantomime had been sufficiently +good, for one of them strode away into the darkness, where the lads +could make out a sort of wind-shade of piled-up stones, from which he +returned directly afterwards with what proved to be a goatskin-bag, +which he carried to his companion, and then went off again, to return +from somewhere behind the stones, carrying a peculiar-looking earthen +jar, which proved to be filled with water. + +Just then Punch drew the two muskets a little farther from the fire, and +to Pen's surprise took off his jacket and carefully covered their locks. + +"Afraid of the damp," muttered Pen to himself; and then he smiled up in +the face of the fiercer-looking of the two goat-herds as the man placed +a cake of coarse-looking bread in his hands and afterwards turned out +from the bag a couple of large onions, to which he added a small +bullock's horn whose opening was stopped with a ball of goatskin. + +"_Bueno, bueno_!" said Pen, taking the food which was offered to him +with the grave courtesy of a gentleman; and, not to be outdone, he took +the hand that gave and lightly raised it to his lips. The act of +courtesy seemed to melt all chilling reserve, and the two men hurried to +throw some heather-like twigs upon the fire, which began to burn up +brightly, emitting a pleasant aromatic smoke. Then, seating themselves, +the more fierce-looking of the pair pointed to the bread and held up the +jar so that they could drink. + +"_Amigos, amigos_!" he said softly; and he took the jar in turn, drank +to the lads, and gravely set it down between them; and then as Pen broke +bread Punch started violently, for each of the men drew out his knife, +and the boy's hand was stretched out towards the muskets, but withdrawn +directly as he realised the meaning of the unsheathed knives, each of +the goat-herds snatching up one of the onions and beginning to peel it +for the guests, before hastening to stick the point of his knife into +the vegetable and hand both to their visitors. + +"They scared me," said Punch. "I say, don't the onions smell good! +Want a bit of salt, though." + +He had hardly said the word before the taller of the two men caught up +the horn, drew out the ball-like wad which closed it up, and revealed +within a reddish-looking powder which glistened in the light of the fire +and proved to be rock-salt. + +It was a very rough and humble meal, but Punch expressed his companion's +feelings when he said it was 'lishus. + +"Worth coming for--eh, Punch?" said Pen, "and risking the wolves." + +"Here, I say, drop that, comrade. Don't be hard on a fellow. One can't +help having one's feelings. But I say, you looked half-scared too when +these two Spaniards whipped out their knives." + +"I was more than half, Punch. But it was the same with them; they +looked startled enough when we came upon them suddenly with our muskets +and woke them out of sleep." + +"Yes; they thought we was Frenchies till you showed them we was +friends." + +It was a rough but savoury meal, and wonderfully picturesque too, for +the fire burned up briskly, shedding a bright light upon their hosts in +their rough goatskin clothes, as they sat looking on as if pleased and +amused at Punch's voracity, while now the herd of goats that had +scampered away into the darkness recovered from their panic and came +slowly back one by one, to form a circle round the fire, where they +stood, long-horned, shaggy, and full-bearded, looking in the half-light +like so many satyrs of the classic times, blinking their eyes and +watching the little feast as if awaiting their time to be invited to +join in. + +"I say," said Pen suddenly, "that was very thoughtful and right of you, +Punch, to cover over the muskets; but you had better put your jacket on +again. These puffs of air that come down from the mountains blow very +cold; when the fire flames up it seems to burn one cheek, while the wind +blows on the other and feels quite icy. There's no chance of any damp +making the locks rusty. Put on your jacket, lad; put on your jacket." + +"That I don't," said the boy, in a half-whisper. "Who thought anything +about dew or damp?" + +"Why, you did." + +"Not likely, with the guns so close to the fire. Did you think I meant +that?" + +"Why, of course." + +"Nonsense! I didn't want these Spaniels to take notice of them." + +"I don't understand you, Punch." + +"Why, didn't you tell them we was English?" + +"Of course." + +"And at the same time," said Punch, "put a couple of French muskets down +before them, and us with French belts and cartridge-boxes on us all the +time?" + +"Oh, they wouldn't have noticed that." + +"I don't know," said Punch. "These are rough-looking chaps, but they +are not fools; and the French have knocked them about so that they hate +them and feel ready to give them the knife at the slightest chance." + +"Well, there's no harm in being particular, Punch; but I don't think +they will doubt us." + +"Well, I don't doubt them," said Punch. "What a jolly supper! I feel +just like a new man. But won't it be a pity to leave here and go on the +march again? You know, I can't help it, comrade; I shall begin thinking +about the wolves again as soon as we start off into the darkness. +Hadn't we better lie down here and go to sleep till daylight?" + +"I don't know," said Pen thoughtfully. "These men have been very +friendly to us, but we are quite strangers, and if they doubt our being +what we said ours would be a very awkward position if we went off to +sleep. Could you go off to sleep and trust them?" + +"Deal sooner trust them than the wolves, comrade," said Punch, yawning +violently, an act which was so infectious that it made his companion +yawn too. + +"How tiresome!" he exclaimed, "You make me sleepy, and if we don't jump +up and start at once we shall never get off." + +"Well then, don't," said Punch appealingly. "Let's risk it, comrade. +These two wouldn't be such brutes as to use their knives on us when we +were asleep. Look here! What do they mean now?" + +For the two goat-herds came and patted them on the shoulders and signed +to them to get up and follow. + +"Why, they want us to go along with them, comrade," said the boy, +picking up the two muskets. + +"Here, ketch hold, in case they mean mischief. Why, they don't want to +take us into the dark so that the goats shouldn't see the murder, do +they?" + +"I am going to do what you suggested, Punch," replied Pen, "risk it," +and he followed their two hosts to the rough-looking stone shelter which +kept off the wind and reflected the warmth of the fire. + +Here they drew out a couple of tightly rolled-up skin-rugs, and made +signs that the lads should take them. No words were spoken, the men's +intention was plainly enough expressed; and a very short time afterwards +each lad was lying down in the angle of the rough wall, snugly rolled in +his skin-rug, with a French musket for companion; and to both it seemed +as if only a few minutes had elapsed before they were gazing across a +beautiful valley where mists were rising, wreath after wreath of +half-transparent vapour, shot with many colours by the rays of the +rising sun. + + + +CHAPTER FORTY ONE. + +BOOTS OR BOOTY? + +"There, Punch," said Pen, rising; "you didn't dream, did you, that our +friends crept up with their knives in the night to make an end of you?" + +"No," cried the boy excitedly, as he turned to gaze after the men, who +were some little distance away amongst the goats, "I didn't dream it. +It was real. First one of them and then the other did come with his +knife in his hand; but I cocked my musket, and they sneaked off again +and pretended that they wanted to see to the fire." + +"And what then?" said Pen. + +"Well, there wasn't no what then," replied the boy, "and I must have +gone to sleep." + +"That was all a dream, I believe, Punch; and I suppose you had another +dream or two about the wolves?" + +"Yes, that was a dream. Yes, it must have been. No, it was more a bit +of fancy, for I half-woke up and saw the fire shining on a whole drove +of the savage beasts; but I soon made out that they weren't wolves, +because wolves don't have horns. So it was the goats. I say, look +here. Those two chaps have been milking. They don't mean it for us, do +they?" + +The coming of the two goat-herds soon proved that they were hospitably +bent, and the lads agreed between themselves that there were far worse +breakfasts than black-bread cake and warm goat's-milk. + +This ended, a difficult task had to be mastered, and that was to try and +obtain information such as would enable the two questioners to learn the +whereabouts of the British troops. + +But it proved to be easier than might have been supposed. + +To Pen's surprise he learned all he wanted by the use of three +words--_soldado, Frances_, and _Ingles_--with the addition of a good +deal of gesticulation. + +For, their breakfast ended, the two lads stood with their hosts, and Pen +patted his own breast and that of his companion, and then touched their +muskets and belts. + +"_Soldado_," he said. "_Soldado_." + +The fiercer-looking of the two goat-herds caught his meaning directly, +and touched them both in turn upon the breast before repeating the word +_soldado_ (soldier). + +"That's all right, Punch," said Pen. "I have made him understand that +we are soldiers." + +"Tchah!" said Punch scornfully. "These Spaniels ain't fools. They +knowed that without you telling them." + +"Never mind," said Pen. "Let me have my own way, unless you would like +to do it." + +"No, thank you," replied the boy, shrinking back, while Pen now turned +and pointed in the direction where he believed the French troops lay. + +"_Soldado Frances_?" he said in a questioning tone; and the man nodded +quickly, caught hold of the lad's pointing arm, and pressed it a little +to one side, as if to show him that he had not quite located their +enemies correctly. + +"_Soldado Frances_!" he said, showing his white teeth in a smile; and +then his face changed and he drew his knife. "_Soldado Frances_," he +said fiercely. + +Pen nodded, and signed to the man to replace his knife. + +"So far, so good, Punch," said Pen. "I don't know how we are going to +get on about the next question." + +But again the task proved perfectly easy, for, laying his hand upon the +goat-herd's arm, he repeated the words "_Soldado Ingles_." + +"_Si_," said the man directly; and he patted the lad on his shoulder. +"_Soldado Ingles_." + +"Yes, that's all right," said Pen; "but, now then, look here," And +pointing with his hand to a spot higher up the mountain, he repeated the +two Spanish words with a questioning tone: "_Soldado Ingles_?" + +The man looked at him blankly, and Pen pointed in another direction, +repeating his question, and then again away down a far-reaching valley +lying westward of where they stood. + +And now the Spaniard's face lit up as if he fully grasped the meaning of +the question. + +"_Si, si, si_!" he cried, nodding quickly and pointing right away into +the distant valley. "_Soldado Ingles! Soldado Ingles_!" he cried. +"_Muchos_, _muchos_." And then, thoroughly following the meaning of the +lad's questions, he cried excitedly, as he pointed away down the valley, +where an occasional flash of light suggested the presence of a river, +"_Soldado Ingles, muchos, muchos_." And then he tapped the musket and +belts and repeated his words again and again as he pointed away into the +distance. + +"_Bravo amigo_!" cried Pen.--"There, Punch, I don't think there's a +doubt of it. The British forces lie somewhere over there." + +"Then if the British forces lie over there," cried Punch, almost +pompously, "that's where the --th lies, for they always go first. Why, +we shall be at home again to-night if we have luck. My word, won't the +chaps give us a hooroar when we march into camp? For, of course, they +think we are dead! You listen what old O'Grady says. You see if he +don't say, `Well done, me boys! Ye are welkim as the flures of May.' I +say, ask him how many miles it is to where our fellows lie." + +"No, Punch, you do it." + +"No, I ain't going to try." + +"Well, look here; these men have been very good to us, and we ought to +show that we are grateful. How is it to be done?" + +"I don't know," said Punch. "We ain't got no money, have we?" + +"Not a _peseta_, Punch. But I tell you what will please them. You must +give them your knife." + +"Give them my knife! Likely! Why, it's the best bit of stuff that was +ever made. I wouldn't take a hundred pounds for it." + +"Well, no one will offer it to you, Punch, and you are not asked to sell +it. I ask you to give it to them to pay for what they have done for +us." + +"But give my knife! I wouldn't.--Oh, well, all right. You know best, +and if you think we ought to give it to them, there you are.--Good-bye, +old sharper! I am very sorry to part with you all the same." + +"Never mind, Punch. I'll give you a better one some day." + +"Some day never comes," said the boy grumpily. "But I know you will if +you can." + +Pen took the knife, and, eager to get the matter over, he stepped to +where the bigger goat-herd stood watching them, and opened and shut the +big clasp-knife, picked up a piece of wood, and showed how keen the +blade was, the man watching him curiously the while; and then Pen closed +it and placed it in the man's hand. + +The Spaniard looked at him curiously for a moment, as if not quite +grasping his meaning. + +"_Por usted_," said Pen; and the man nodded and smiled, but shook his +head and gave him the knife back. + +"Hooroar! He won't have it," cried Punch. + +Pen pressed it upon the man again, and Punch groaned; but the man +rejected it, once more thrusting the knife back with both hands, and +then laughingly pointed down to Pen's boots. + +"What does he mean by that, Punch?" cried Pen. + +"Haw, haw, haw, haw!" laughed the boy. "He wants you to give him your +boots." + +"Nonsense!" + +"Here, give us hold of my knife. Hooroar! Sharper, I have got you +again! But he sha'n't have your boots; he shall have mine, and +welcome.--Look here, my cock Spaniel," continued the boy excitedly, as +he pocketed his knife, and dropping himself on the ground he began to +unfasten his boots. But the man shook his head and signed to him that +they would not do, pointing again and again to Pen's. "No, no; you +can't have them. These are better. You can have them and welcome." + +But there was a difference of opinion, the Spaniard persisting in his +demand for the pair that had taken his fancy. + +"Here, I didn't think he was such a fool," cried Punch. "These are the +best;" and the boy thrust off his boots and held them out to the man, +who still shook his head violently. + +"No, no, Punch," said Pen, who had quickly followed his companion's +example; and he drew off his own boots and held them to the man, who +seized them joyfully, showing them with a look of triumph to his fellow. +"There, put yours on again, Punch." + +"Not me," said the boy. "Think I'm going to tramp in boots and let you +tramp over the rocks barefoot? Blest if I do; so there! Here, you put +them on." + +"Not I," said Pen. "I don't believe they would fit me." + +"Yes, they would. I do know that. You are years older than I am, but +my feet's quite as big as yours; so now then. I tried yours when you +was asleep one night, and they fitted me exactly, so of course these +'ere will fit you. Here, catch hold." + +Pen turned away so decisively that the boy stood scowling; but a thought +struck him, and with a look of triumph he turned to the younger of the +two goat-herds. + +"Here you are, cocky," he cried; and to the man's keen delight Punch +thrust the pair of boots into his hands and gave him a hearty slap on +the back. "It's all right, comrade," cried the boy. "Foots soon gets +hard when you ain't got no shoes. Nature soles and heels them with her +own leather. Lots of our chaps have chucked their boots away, and don't +mind a bit. There was plenty of foots in the world, me boy, before +there was any brogues. I heered O'Grady say that one day to one of our +chaps who had had his boots stolen. I say, what are they going to do?" + +This soon became evident, for the elder goat-herd, on seeing that the +lads were about to start in the direction of the valley, pressed upon +Pen a goatskin-bag which he took from a corner of the shelter, its +contents being a couple of bread-cakes, a piece of cheese like dried +brown leather, about a dozen onions, and the horn of salt. + +"Come along, Punch," cried Pen cheerily. "They have given us a _quid +pro quo_ at all events." + +"Have they?" cried Punch eagerly. "Take care of it then. I have often +longed for a bit when I felt so horribly hungry. Old O'Grady told me +over and over again that a chew of 'bacco is splendid when you ain't got +nothing to eat; so we will just try." + +"What are you talking about?" said Pen, as they marched along the +mountain-slope like some one of old who "went delicately," for the way +was stony, and Nature had not had time to commence the promised soleing +and heeling process. + +"What was I talking about? You said they'd slipped some 'bacco into the +bag." + +"Nonsense!" cried Pen. + +"I swear you did. You said quid something." + +"I said a few Latin words that sounded like it." + +"Well, look ye here, comrade; don't do it again. Latin was all very +well for that old _padre_--good old chap! Bless his bald head! Regular +trump he was! And parlyvooing was all very well for Mr Contrabando; +but plain English for Bob Punchard, sivvy play, as we say in French." + + + +CHAPTER FORTY TWO. + +FRIEND AND ENEMY. + +The two lads started off light-hearted and hopeful, for if they could +trust the goat-herds, whose information seemed to be perfectly correct, +a day's journey downward to the river in the valley, though seeming far +distant, must bring them pretty near the goal they sought--in other +words, the headquarters of the army that had crossed over from Portugal +into Spain to drive back the French usurper, the task having been given +to England's most trusted General, Wellesley, who was in time to come +always to be better known as Wellington. + +Thanks to the goat-herds, the lads were well provisioned for a day; but +at the same time, and again thanks to their hosts of the past night, +they were sadly crippled for their task. + +It was not long before they began to feel how badly they were equipped, +for the principal production of the part of the country they traversed +seemed to be stones, from the smallest sharp-cornered pebble up to huge +blocks half the size of a house. But for hours they trudged on +sturdily, chatting cheerfully at first, then growing silent, and then +making remarks which were started by Punch. + +"Say, comrade," he said, "is Spain what they call a civilised country?" + +"Yes, and one of the most famous in Europe; at least, it used to be." + +"Ah, used to be!" said Punch sharply. "Used. 'Tain't now. I don't +call a place civilised where they have got roads like this." + +"Yes, it is rough," said Pen. + +"Rough! Rough ain't the word for it," grumbled Punch. "If we go on +much farther like this I shall wear my feet to the bone. Ain't it time +we sat down and had a bit of dinner?" + +"No," replied Pen. "We will sit down and rest if you like, but we must +try and husband our provisions so as to make them last over till +to-morrow night." + +"What's to-morrow night got to do with it? We ought to be along with +the British army by to-night; and what's husbands got to do with it? We +are not going to share our prog with anybody else, and if it's husbands, +how do we know they won't bring their wives? Bother! You will be +telling me they are going to bring all their kids next." + +"Is that meant for a joke, Punch? Let's go a little farther first. +Come along, step out." + +"Step out indeed!" grumbled the boy. "I stepped out first thing--right +out of my boots. I say, comrade, oughtn't the soles of our feet to +begin to get hard by now?" + +"Don't talk about it, Punch." + +"Oh, you can feel it too? If it's like this now, what's it going to be +by to-night? I did not know that it was going to be so bad. If I had, +blest if that goat-stalker should have had my boots! I'd have kept +them, and shared them--one apiece--and every now and then we could have +changed foots. It would have been better then, wouldn't it?" + +"I don't know, Punch. Don't think about it. Let's go on till we get to +the first spring, and then rest and bathe our feet." + +"All right." + +The boys kept on their painful walk for another hour; and then, the +spring being found, they rested and bathed their tender soles, partook +of a portion of their provisions, and went on again. + +That night the river seemed to be as far off as ever, and as they +settled upon a sheltered spot for their night's rest, and ate their +spare supper, Punch hazarded the remark that they shouldn't overtake the +army the next day. Pen was more hopeful, and that night they fell +asleep directly, with Punch quite forgetful of the wolves. + +The morning found the travellers better prepared for the continuance of +their journey, and they toiled on painfully, slept for another night in +a patch of forest, and started off at the first blink of dawn so as to +reach the river, which was now flowing swiftly westward on their left. + +Their provisions were finished, all but a scrap of the bread which was +so hard that they were glad to soak it in the river; but in spite of +their pain they walked on more bravely, their sufferings being +alleviated by the water, which was now always on their left, and down to +whose bubbling surface they descended from time to time. + +"I say," said Punch, all at once, "I hope those chaps were right, +because we have come a long way, and I can't see no sign of the army. +You must have patience, Punch." + +"All right; but it's nearly all used up. I say, look here, do you think +the army will be this side of the river?" + +"Can't say, Punch.--I hope so." + +"But suppose it's the other side. How are you going to get across? Are +we likely to come to a town and a bridge?" + +"No; we are too far away up in the mountains. But I dare say we shall +be able to find a ford where we can cross." + +"Oh!" said Punch thoughtfully; and they journeyed on, beginning to +suffer now from hunger in addition to weariness and pain; and just about +midday, when the heat of the sun was beating down strongly in the river +valley, Punch limped off painfully to where an oak-tree spread its shady +boughs, and threw himself prone. + +"It's all up, comrade," he said. "Can't go no farther." + +"No, no; don't give way," said Pen, who felt painfully disposed to +follow his companion's example. "Get well into the shade and have a few +hours' sleep. It will be cooler by-and-by, and we shall get on better +after a rest. There, try and go to sleep." + +"Who's to sleep with a pair of red-hot feet and an empty cupboard? I +can't," said Punch. And he took hold of his ankles, drew them up, and +sat Chinese-tumbler fashion, rocking himself to and fro; while with a +weary sigh Pen sank down beside him and sat gazing into the sunny +distance. + +"Couldn't we get over to the other side?" said Punch at last. "It's all +rocks and stones and rough going this side, and all green and meadowlike +over the other. Can you swim?" + +"Yes, pretty well," said Pen; "but I should be too tired to try." + +"So can I, pretty tidy. I am tired, but not too tired to try. Let's +just rest a bit, and then swim across. It runs pretty fast, but 'tain't +far, and if it carried us some way down, all the better." + +"Very well, after a bit I don't mind if we try," said Pen; "but I must +rest first." + +Then the boys were silent for a time, for Punch, whose eyes were +wandering as he scanned the distance of the verdant undulating slope on +the other side of the river, suddenly burst out with: "Yes, we had +better get across, for our chaps are sure to be on the other side of the +river." + +"Why?" said Pen drowsily. + +"'Cause we are this. Soldiering always seems to be going by the rules +of contrary; and--there!" cried the boy excitedly, "what did I tell you? +There they are!" + +"What, our men? Where?" cried Pen excitedly. + +"Right over yonder, a mile away." + +"I can see nothing." + +"You don't half look," cried Punch angrily, bending forward, nursing his +tender feet and staring wildly into the distance. "I ketched sight of a +bit of scarlet ever so far off, and that must mean Bri'sh soldiers." + +"No; it might be something painted red--or a patch of poppies perhaps." + +"Oh, go it!" cried Punch angrily. "You will say next it is a jerrynium +in a red pot, same as my mother always used to have in her window. It's +red-coats, I tell you. There, can't you see them?" + +"No." + +"Tchah! You are not looking right. Look yonder--about a mile away from +the top of that hill just to the right of that bit of a wood. Now, do +you see?" + +"No," said Pen slowly. "Yes, I do--men marching. Do you see that flash +in the sunlight. Bayonets! Punch, you are right!" + +"Ah!" said the boy. "Now then, what do you say to a swim across?" + +"Yes, I am ready," said Pen. "How far is it, do you think?" + +"About a hundred yards," replied the boy. "Oh, we ought to do that +easy. You see, it will be only paddle at first, and then wade till you +get up to your chest, and then swim. Perhaps we sha'n't have to swim at +all. Rough rivers like this are always shallow. When you are ready I +am. We sha'n't have to take off our shoes and stockings; and if we get +very wet, well, we can wring our clothes, and they will soon dry in the +sun. Look sharp and give the word. I am ready for anything with the +British army in sight." + +There was no hesitation now. The lads took the precaution of securing +their cartouche-boxes between the muzzle of their pieces and the ramrod; +and, keeping the muskets still slung so that at any moment they could +let them drop loose to hang from the shoulder, they stepped carefully +down amongst the stones until the pleasantly cool water began to foam +above their feet, and then waded carefully on till they were knee-deep +and began to feel the pressure of the water against their legs. + +"Ain't going to be deep," said Punch cheerily. "Don't it feel nice to +your toddlers? How fast it runs, though! Why, if it was deep enough to +swim in it would carry you along faster than you could walk. It strikes +me that we shall get across without having it up to one's waistbelt." + +The boy seemed pretty correct in his judgment, for as they carefully +waded on--carefully, for the bottom was very uneven--they were nearly +half across, and still the water was not so deep as the boy had +prophesied. + +"There! What did I tell you?" he said; and then with his next step he +caught at his companion's hand and went down to his chin. + +The result was that Pen lost his balance, and the pair, half-struggling, +half-swimming for about a dozen yards, were carried swiftly along to +where a patch of rock showed itself in mid-stream with the water foaming +all around. + +They were swept right round against the rocks, and found bottom +directly, struggling up, with the swift stream only now to their knees. + +"What a hole!" cried Pen, panting a little with his exertions. "I say, +you must take care, Punch." + +"Oh yes, I will take care," said the boy, puffing and choking. "I don't +know how much water I have swallowed. But it's all shallow now, and we +are half-over. How about your cartridges? Mine's all wet." + +"Then I suppose mine are too," said Pen. + +"Never mind," cried Punch cheerfully. "Perhaps they will be all right +if we lay them out to dry in the sun. Now then, are you ready? It +looks as if it will be all shallow the rest of the way." + +"I sha'n't trust it," said Pen, "so let's keep hold of hands." + +They started again, yielding a little to the stream, and wading +diagonally for the bank on Punch's left, but making very slow progress, +for Pen noted that the water, which was rough and shallow where they +were, seemed to flow calmly and swiftly onward a short distance away, +and was evidently deep. + +"Steady! Steady!" cried Pen, hanging away a little towards the bank +from which they had started. + +"All right; I am steady enough, only one can't do as one likes. It's +just as if all the water was pushing behind. Ah! Look out, comrade!" + +Pen was already looking out, and he had need, for once more his +companion had stepped as it were off a shelf into deep water, and the +next moment, still grasping Punch's hand with all his might, he was +striking out; and then together they were being borne rapidly down by +the stream. + + + +CHAPTER FORTY THREE. + +FRESH COMRADES. + +Pen never could quite settle in his own mind how it all happened. He +was conscious of the rush of water and the foam bubbling against his +lips, while he clung tightly to his companion till they were swept +against rocks, borne into eddies, whirled round now beneath the surface, +now gasping for breath as darkness was turned into light; then feeling +as if they were being dragged over rough pieces of rock that were slimy +with weed as he caught at them with one hand, and then, still clinging +to Punch, who clung to him, they were being carried slowly over a +shallow patch where the water raced beside their ears, till at last he +struggled out, half-blind and dizzy, to find himself alone, with the sun +beating hotly upon his head. + +He was giddy, breathless, confused in his excitement, as he pressed the +water from his eyes; and then he uttered a cry, for about twenty yards +from where he stood, with the water barely up to his ankles, he could +see Punch lying upon his face, gradually gliding away towards the spot +where the stream was beginning to run smooth and deep. + +He could recall this part of his adventure, though, well enough: how he +staggered and splashed to the place, where he could catch hold of the +boy, and turn him over before getting hold of his belt and dragging him +right out of the river on to the sandy bank where it was hot and dry. + +And then he could recall how a great despair came upon him, and he knelt +helplessly gazing down at his comrade, with the horrible feeling upon +him that he was dead. + +Then all was misty again. The river was running onward with a swift +rush towards its mouth, and he was conscious that he was safe upon the +bank from which he had started. Then he knew that he must have swooned +away, and lay, for how long he could not tell; but the next thing that +he remembered clearly was that he opened his eyes to see Punch bending +over him and rocking him to and fro according to the drill instructions +they had both learned as to how to deal with a fellow-soldier who has +been half-drowned. + +"Oh, Punch," he cried, in a voice that sounded to him like a hoarse +whisper, "I thought you were dead!" + +The boy was blubbering as if his heart would break, and it was some +moments before he half-sobbed and half-whimpered out, "Why, you couldn't +have done that, because it's what I was thinking about you. But, I say, +comrade, you are all right, aren't you?" + +"I--I suppose so," gasped Pen. + +"Oh, don't talk like that," sobbed the boy. + +"This 'ere's the worst of all. Do say as you are coming round. Why, +you must be, or else you couldn't talk. But, I say, did you save me, or +did I save you? Blest if I know! And here we are on the wrong side +after all! What's to be done now?" + +"Wring our clothes, I suppose, Punch," said Pen wearily, "or lie down +and rest without." + +"Well, I feel as if I should like to do that," said Punch. "This 'ere +sand is hot and dry enough to make us steam. I say, comrade," he +continued, wiping his eyes and speaking in a piteous tone, "don't you +take no notice of me and the water squeezing out of my eyes. I am so +full of it that it's running out. But we are all right, comrade. I was +beginning to think you had gone and left me all alone. But I say, this +'ere's a nice place, this Spain! Here, what's the matter with you?" +continued Punch excitedly. "Don't turn like that, choking and pynting. +Oh, this 'ere's worse still! He's in a blessed fit!" + +He had seized Pen by the shoulders now, and began shaking him violently, +till Pen began to struggle with him, forced him aside, and then pointing +across the river, he gasped out, "Cavalry! Look, look!" + +The boy swung himself round, one hand felt for his musket, the other at +his belt, where the bayonet should have been, for the word cavalry +suggested to him preparations for receiving a charge. + +Then, following the direction of his companion's pointing hand, he fully +grasped what was meant, for coming down the slope across the river were +a couple of English light dragoons, who had caught sight of the two +figures on the opposite bank. + +The men were approaching cautiously, each with his carbine at the ready, +and for the moment it seemed as if the vedette were about to place the +lives of the two lads in fresh peril. But as they drew nearer the boys +rose and shouted; though the rushing noise of the river drowned their +words. + +As the boys continued to gesticulate, the men began to grasp the fact +that they had been in the water, and what they were, for one of them +began pointing along the stream and waving his hand, as he shouted again +and again. + +"Can't--understand--what--you--say!" yelled Punch; and then putting his +hand to his lips, he shouted with all his might, "English! Help!" + +The word "help" evidently reached the ears of one of the dragoons, for, +rising in his stirrups, he waved the hand that held his carbine and +pointed downstream, yelling out something again. + +"I don't know, comrade," cried Punch dolefully. "I think it was `Come +on!'" + +"I know now," cried Pen. "It was `ford.'" + +Then the drenched, exhausted pair staggered on over the dry sand, which +suggested that at times the river must be twice its present width; and +the vedette guided their horses carefully on amongst the stones of the +farther bank, till, a few hundred yards lower down, where the river was +clear of obstructions and ran swiftly on in a regular ripple, the two +horses turned right and paced gently down into the water, which, +half-way to their knees, splashed up as they made for the opposite bank, +which the lads reached at the same time as the vedette. + +"Why, hallo, my lads! We couldn't make out what you were. The --th, +aren't you?" + +"Yes." + +"What! Have you been in the river?" + +"Yes, tried to cross--'most drowned," said Punch hoarsely. + +"You should have come down to this ford. Where are you for?" + +"Our corps, when we can find it," said Pen. + +"Oh, that's all right; about two miles away. Come on." + +"Not me!" said Punch sturdily. "I have had enough of it." + +"What do you mean?" said the other dragoon who had not spoken. "Afraid +to cross?" + +"Yes, that's it," said Punch. "So would you be if you had had my dose. +I'm nearly full of water now." + +"Well, you look it," said the first dragoon, laughing. "Here, take hold +of our stirrup-leathers. We will take you across all right." + +Punch hesitated. + +"Shall we risk it, comrade?" he said. + +"Yes, of course." + +And Punch limped painfully to the side of the second dragoon, while Pen +took hold of the stirrup-leather of the first. + +"Here, I say, this won't do," said the man, as their horses' hoofs sank +in the hot, dry sand of the other side. "Why, you are both regularly +knocked up.--Dismount!" he cried, and he and his companion dropped from +their saddles. "There, my lads, mount. You can ride the rest of the +way. Hallo! Limping?" he continued. "What does that mean? Footsore, +or a wound?" + +"Wound," said Pen quietly. "My comrade, there, has been worse than I. +How far do you say it is to the camp?" + +"A couple of miles; but we will see you there safe. How have you been +off for rations?" + +Pen told him, and an end was put to their famishing state by a surprise +of the dragoons' haversacks. + +About half an hour later the led horses entered the camp, and the boy's +hearts were gladdened by the cheery notes of a cavalry call. + +"Ah," whispered Punch, as he leaned over from his seat in the saddle to +whisper to Pen, "that seems to do a fellow's heart good, comrade. But +'tain't so good as a bugle. If I could hear that again I should be just +myself." + + + +CHAPTER FORTY FOUR. + +BEFORE THE AQUILINE. + +Three days in the English camp, and the two lads had pretty well +recovered; but they were greatly disappointed to find that during the +absence of the dragoons on vedette duty the --th and another regiment +had been despatched for a reconnoitring expedition, so that the lads had +encountered no old friends. + +"Well, I suppose we oughtn't to grumble, comrade," said Punch, "for +every one makes no end of a fuss over us, and are always beginning to +ask questions and set one telling them about all we did after we were +left behind." + +"Yes; I am rather tired of it," said Pen. "I shall be only too glad +when we are able to join the regiment." + +"Oh, I shall be glad enough," said Punch. "I want to see old O'Grady, +me boy; and, I say, do you think, if I was to make a sort of petition +like, the colonel would put me in one of the companies now? Of course I +used to be proud enough of being bugler, but I want to be full private." + +"Well, you have only got to wait till you get bigger," said Pen, +smiling. + +"Bother bigger!" cried the boy. "Why, I am growing fast, and last time +I was measured I was only an inch shorter than the little chap we have +got; and what difference does an inch make when a fellow can carry a +rifle and can use it? You can't say that I ain't able, though it was +only a musket." + +"No, Punch; there isn't a man in the regiment could have done better +than you did." + +"There, then!" cried the boy, with his eyes sparkling. "Then I'm sure +if you would speak up and say all that to the colonel he would let me go +into one of the companies. I want to be in yours, but I would wait for +my chance if they would only make me a full private at once." + +The boys were sitting talking together when an infantry sergeant came up +and said, "Here, youngsters, don't go away. Smarten yourselves up a +bit. You are to come with me to the officers' tent. I will be back in +about ten minutes." + +The sergeant went off in his quick, business-like way, and Punch began +to grumble. + +"Who's to smarten himself up," he cried petulantly, "when his uniform is +all nohow and he's got no proper boots? These old uns they've give me +don't fit, and they will be all to pieces directly; and yours ain't much +better. I suppose they are going to question us again about where we +have been and what we have done." + +"Yes," said Pen wearily, "and I am rather tired of it. It's like making +a show of us." + +"Oh, well, it don't hurt. They like to hear, and I dare say the +officers will give orders that we are to have something to eat and +drink." + +"Punch, you think of nothing but eating and drinking," said Pen again. + +"Well, after being starved as we have, ain't it enough to make anybody +think that a little more wouldn't do them any harm? Hallo, he's soon +back!" For he caught sight of the sergeant coming. + +"Now, boys," he said, "ready?" + +"Yes," said Pen; and the keen-looking non-com looked both of them over +in turn. + +"That the best you can do for yourselves?" he said sourly. "Well, I +suppose it is. You are clean, and you look as if you had been at work. +You, Punchard, can't you let those trousers down a little lower?" + +"No, sir; I did try last night. They have run up through being in the +river when we were half-drowned." + +"Humph! Perhaps," said the sergeant. "I believe it was the growing so +much." + +Punch turned sharply to his comrade and gave him a wink, as much as to +say, "Hear that?" + +"Now then, forward!" said the sergeant. "And look here, put on your +best manners, boys. You are going before some of the biggest officers, +so mind your p's and q's." + +A few minutes later the sergeant stopped short at the largest tent in +the camp, stated his business to the sentry who was marching to and fro +before a flag, and after waiting a few minutes a subaltern came out, +spoke to the sergeant, and then told the boys to follow him. + +Directly after, the pair were ushered into the presence of half-a-dozen +officers in undress uniform, one of whom, a keen-looking, aquiline-nosed +man, gave them in turn a sharp, searching look, which Punch afterwards +said went right through him and came back again. He then turned to a +grey-haired officer and said shortly, "Go on. I will listen." + +The grey-haired officer nodded and then turned to the two lads. + +"Look here, boys," he said, "we have heard something about your +adventures while you were away from your regiment. Now, stories grow in +telling, like snowballs. Do you understand?" + +"Oh yes, sir," said Punch, "I know that;" and, apparently not in the +slightest degree abashed by the presence in which he found himself, the +boy eagerly scanned each officer in turn, before examining every item +within the tent, and then letting his eyes wander out through the open +doorway. + +"And you, my lad?" continued the officer, for Pen had remained silent. + +"Yes, sir," said the lad quietly. + +"Well," said the officer, "we want the plain, simple account of where +you have been, without any exaggeration, for I am afraid one of you--I +don't know which, but I dare say I shall make a very shrewd guess before +we have done--has been dressing up your adventures with rather a free +hand." + +"I beg your pardon, sir," said Pen quietly, "my comrade here, Punchard, +has told nothing but the simple truth, and I have only answered +questions without the slightest exaggeration." + +"Without the slightest exaggeration?" said the officer, looking +searchingly at Pen, and there was a touch of irony in his tone. "Well, +that is what I want from you now." + +Pen coloured and remained silent while the officer asked a question or +two of Punch, but soon turned to the elder lad, who, warming as he went +on, briefly and succinctly related the main points of what they had gone +through. + +"Very well said! Well spoken, my lad," said the aquiline-nosed officer; +and Pen started, for, warming in his narration, Pen had almost forgotten +his presence. "How long have you been a private in the --th?" + +"A year, sir." + +"Where were you before you enlisted?" + +"At Blankton House School." + +"Oh, I thought they called that College." + +"Yes, sir, they do," said Pen, smiling; "but it is only a preparation +place." + +"Yes, for the sons of gentlemen making ready for the army?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"And how come you to be a private in his Majesty's Rifle-Regiment?" + +Pen was silent. + +"Speak out, comrade," put in Punch. "There ain't nothing to be ashamed +of." + +"Silence, sir!" cried the officer. "Let your comrade speak for +himself." Then turning to Pen, "Your comrade says there was nothing to +be ashamed of." + +"There is not, sir," said Pen gravely. + +"Well, then, keep nothing back." + +"It was this way, sir," said Pen. "I was educated to be an officer, and +then by a death in my family all my hopes were set aside, and I was +placed in a lawyer's office to become a clerk. I couldn't bear it, +sir." + +"And you ran away?" + +"No, sir. I appealed again and again for leave to return to my school +and finish my education. My relative refused to listen to me, and I +suppose I did wrong, for I went straight to where they were recruiting +for the Rifle-Regiment, and the sergeant took me at once." + +"H'm!" said the officer, looking searchingly in the lad's eyes. "How +came you to join so quiet-looking a regiment?" + +Pen smiled rather bitterly. + +"It was because my relative, sir, always threw it in my teeth that it +was for the sake of the scarlet uniform that I wanted to join the army." + +"H'm!" said the officer. "Now, look here, my lad; I presume you have +had your eyes about you during the time that you were a prisoner, when +you were escaping, and when you were with the _contrabandista_ and had +that adventure with the Spanish gentleman whom you suppose to be the +King. By the way, why did you suppose that he was the King?" + +"From the behaviour of his followers, sir, and from what I learned from +the smuggler chief." + +"H'm. He was a Spaniard, of course?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"Do you speak Spanish?" + +"No, sir. We conversed in French." + +"Do you speak French fluently?" + +"Pretty easily, sir; but I am afraid my accent is atrocious." + +"But you should hear him talk Latin, sir!" cried Punch eagerly. + +"Silence, boy!" snapped out the grey-haired officer; and the chief gave +him a look and a smile. + +"Well, he can, sir; that's quite true," cried Punch angrily. "He talked +to the old father, the _padre_, who was a regular friend to us." + +"Silence, boy!" said the aquiline-nosed officer sternly now. "Your +comrade can say what he has to say modestly and well. That is a thing +you cannot do, so do not interrupt again." + +"All right, sir. No, sir; beg pardon," said Punch. + +"Well," continued the officer, looking keenly and searchingly at Pen, +"you should have been able to carry in your mind a pretty good idea of +the country you have passed through." + +"He can, sir," cried Punch. "He has got it all in his head like a map." + +"My good boy," said the officer, biting his lip to add to the severity +of his aspect, "if you interrupt again you will be placed under arrest." + +Punch closed his lips so tightly that they formed a thin pink line right +across the bottom of his face. + +"Now, Private Gray, do you think that you do carry within your +recollection a pretty good idea of the face of the country; or to put it +more simply and plainly, do you think you could guide a regiment through +the passes of this wild country and lead them safely to where you left +the French encamped?" + +"I have not a doubt but that I could, sir." + +"In the dark?" + +"It would be rather harder in the dark, sir," replied Pen, "but I feel +confident that I could." + +"May I take it that you are willing to try?" + +"I am the King's servant, sir, and I will do my best." + +"That's enough," said the chief. "You can return to your quarters and +hold yourself in readiness to do what I propose, and if you do this +successfully--" + +The speaker stopped short, and Pen took a step towards him. + +"What were you going to say?" said the officer. + +"Let me try first, sir," said the lad, with his pale face, worn by what +he had gone through of late, flushing up with excitement. + +"That will do," said the officer, "only be ready for your duty at any +moment.--Well, what do you wish to say?" + +Pen stretched out his hand and laid it upon Punch's shoulder, for the +boy had been moving his lips almost continuously during the latter part +of the conversation, and in addition making hideous grimaces as if he +were in pain. + +"Only this, sir," said Pen; "my companion here went through all that I +did. He was keenly observant, and would be of great assistance to me if +at any turn I were in doubt." + +"Then you would like to have him with you?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"And you feel that you could trust him?" + +"Oh yes, sir," replied Pen. And the boys' eyes met--their hands too, +for Punch with his lips still pressed together took a step forward and +caught Pen by the hand and wrist. + +"Take him with you, then," said the officer. + +"Oh, thank--Hooray! hooray!" cried Punch, wildly excited now, for he had +caught the tramp of men and seen that which made him dash towards the +open tent-door. + +"Bring back that boy!" cried the officer; and the sergeant, who was +waiting outside, arrested Punch and brought him before the group of +officers. + +"How dare you, sir!" cried the chief wrathfully. "You are not to be +trusted. I rescind that permission I was about to give." + +"Oh, don't do that, sir! 'Tain't fair!" cried the boy. "I couldn't +help it, sir. It was our fellows, sir, marching into camp--the --th, +sir--Rifles, sir. Ain't seen them, sir, since I was shot down. Don't +be hard on a fellow, sir! So glad to see them, sir. You might have +done the same. I only wanted to give them a cheer." + +"Then go out and cheer them, sir," said the officer, frowning severely, +but with a twinkle of mirth in his eye.--"There, Pen Gray, you know your +duty. It is an important one, and I have given it to you in the full +belief that you will well serve your country and your King." + + + +CHAPTER FORTY FIVE. + +NO MORE BUGLING. + +That same night not only a regiment but a very strong brigade of the +British army marched upon the important service that was in hand. + +They marched only by night, and under Pen's guidance the French forces +that had been besieging the old mine were utterly routed. This happened +at a time when provisions were failing, and the _contrabandista_ captain +saw nothing before him but surrender, for he had found to his dismay +that the adit through which he had hoped to lead the Spanish monarch to +safety had been blocked by the treacherous action of some follower--by +whom, he could not tell, though he guessed that it was a question of +bribery. + +There was nothing for it but to die in defence of his monarch, and this +they were prepared to do; but no further fierce fighting had taken +place, for the French General, after securing every exit by the aid of +his reinforcements, felt satisfied that he had only to wait for either +surrender or the dash out by a forlorn hope, ready to die sword in hand. + +Then came shortly what was to him a thorough surprise, and the routing +of his forces by the British troops in an encounter which laid open a +large tract of country and proved to be one of the greatest successes of +Sir Arthur Wellesley's campaign. + +The natural sequence was a meeting in the English General's tent, where +the King was being entertained by the General himself. Here he +expressed a desire to see again the brave young English youth to whom he +owed so much, for he had learned the part Pen Gray had taken in his +rescue. + +It was one afternoon of such a day as well made the Peninsula deserve +the name of Sunny Spain that the --th Rifles were on duty ready to +perform their task of acting as escort to the dethroned Spanish monarch +on his way back to his capital; and to the surprise of Pen a message was +brought to him to come with his companion to the General's tent. + +Here he was received by the King in person, and with a few earnest +thanks for all he had done, the monarch presented him with a ring which +he took from his finger. He followed this up by taking his watch and +chain and presenting them to Punch, who took them in speechless wonder, +looked from one to the other, and then whispered to Pen, "He means this +for you." + +The General heard his words, and said quietly, "No, my lad; keep your +present. Your friend and companion has yet to be paid for the modest +and brave way in which he performed his duties in guiding our force.-- +Private Gray, his Majesty here is in full agreement with that which I am +about to do. It is this--which is quite within my powers as General of +his Britannic Majesty's forces. In exceptional cases promotion is given +to young soldiers for bravery in the field. I have great pleasure in +presenting you with your commission. Ensign Gray, I hope that some day +I may call you Captain. The way is open to you now. I wish you every +success." + +"Oh, I say!" cried Punch, as soon as they were alone. + +The boy could say no more, for he was half-choking with emotion. But +within an hour he was with Pen again bursting with news and ready to +announce, "No more bugling! Hooray! I am the youngest full private in +our corps!" + +THE END. + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of !Tention, by George Manville Fenn + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK !TENTION *** + +***** This file should be named 21374.txt or 21374.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/1/3/7/21374/ + +Produced by Nick Hodson of London, England + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. 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