"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.