ital
bowl of coffee and goat's-milk.

"Well, my friend," said the smuggler, turning to Punch, "have you made a
good meal?"

Punch looked uncomfortable, gave his head a scratch, and frowned.

"Tell him, comrade, I can't jabber French," he said.

"He asks if you have made a good breakfast, Punch."

"Tell him it's splendid."

The wounded lad interpreted between them; while the smuggler now
addressed himself to his patient.

"And you?" he said. "I suppose I may tell the father that his breakfast
was capital, and that you can make yourself happy here till you get
better?"

"Yes; and tell him, please, that our only regret is that we cannot show
our gratitude more."

"Tut, tut! There is no need. The father has helped you because you are
brave young Englishmen who are over here risking your lives for our
countrymen in trying to drive out the French invaders who have come down
like a swarm of locusts upon our land. You understand very well, I
suppose,"--continued the Spaniard, rolling up a cigarette and offering
it to Pen, who took it and waited while the smuggler rolled up another
for Punch and again another for himself before turning and taking a
smouldering brand of wood from the priest, who had fetched it from the
hearth below--"you understand very well why the French are here?"

"Not very well," said Pen. "I am an English soldier here with my people
to fight against the French, who have placed a French king in your
country."

"Yes," said the Spaniard, frowning, as he sent a curl of fragrant smoke
eddying towards the shutter-opening in the sloping roof, where as it
rose soft and grey it began to glow with gold as it reached the sunshine
that streamed across the little square; "they have thrust upon us
another of the usurper's kin, and this Napoleon has imprisoned our
lawful ruler in Valencay."

"I didn't know all this," replied Pen; "but I like to hear."

"Good!" said the smuggler, nodding and speaking eagerly. "And you are
an Englishman and fighting on our side. I know all this, and that your
Wellesley is a brave general who is only waiting his time to sweep our
enemies back to their own country. You are a friend who has suffered in
our cause, and I can confide in you. You will be glad to hear that the
prisoner has escaped."

"Yes," said Pen, forgetting the pain of his wound for the time in the
interest of what he heard, while Punch yawned and did not seem happy
with his cigarette. "But what pri