ft
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