ich resulted in the picturesque-looking man shaking his head.

"The good father," he said to Pen, "asks me if I think the French
soldiers will come back; but I think not. If they do we shall have
warning from my men, who are watching them, for we are expecting friends
to meet us here--friends who may come to-night, perhaps many nights
hence--for us to guide them through the passes."

Then, drawing up his legs, he stepped into the loft and called down the
stairway to the men below.

There was a short reply, and steps were heard as if the two men had
stepped out into the open.

"Now, my friend," said the smuggler, as he went down on one knee and
leaned over Pen, whose hand he took, afterwards feeling his temples and
looking keenly into his eyes as the priest threw the light full in the
wounded lad's face.

"Why," he said, "you are suffering from something else besides your
wound. My men will bring some wine. I see you have water here. You
are faint. There, let me place you more comfortably.--That's better.
I'll see to your wound soon.--And you, my friend," he continued, turning
to Punch, who started and shook his head.

"No parly Frenchy," he said.

"Never mind," continued the smuggler. "Your friend can.--Tell him to
eat some of the bread and fruit, and I will give him some of our grape
medicine as soon as my men bring the skin.--A good hearty draught would
do you good too, father," he added, turning to the old man and laying
his hand with an affectionate gesture upon the priest's arm. "You have
been working too hard, and must have had quite a scare. I am very glad
we have come."

A deep-toned voice came now from the room below, the smuggler replied,
and there was a sound of ascending steps; then another of the smugglers
appeared at the opening in the floor, thrusting something so peculiar
and strange through the aperture that, as it subsided upon the edge in
the full light cast by the smoky lamp, Punch whispered:

"Why, it's a raw kid, comrade, and I don't believe it's dead!"

Pen laughed, and Punch's eyes dilated as he saw the smuggler, who was
standing with his head and shoulders in the opening, take what looked
like a drinking-horn from his breast and place it upon the floor; and
then it seemed to the boy that he untied a thong that was about one of
the kid's legs, and the next moment it appeared as if the animal had
begun to bleed, its vital juice trickling softly into the horn cup, for
it was his