George Manville Fenn

“ 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. ”

“ 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! ”

“ 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. ”

“ 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. ”

“ 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.” ”

“ 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 Francéses,” 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?” ”

“ 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.” ”

“ 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. ”

“ 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!” ”

“ 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!” ”

“ 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. ”

“ 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.” ”

“ 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. ”

“ 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.” ”

“ 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. ”

“ 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.” ”

“ The officer sheathed his sword quickly, bent forward, and, in spite of the darkness, carefully tightened the bandage.
“I beg your pardon, Señor el Contrabandista. I trust you more than ever,” he said. “But we are beaten, are we not?”
“Thanks, señor.—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.” ”

“ 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. ”

“ 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. ”

“ 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. ”

“ 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! ”

“ 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. ”

“ 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. ”

“ 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.” ”