he 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