w 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