oleon was conquering everywhere and trying to master the world."

"Which he will never do," said the smuggler, laughing. "Strong as he
is, and masterful, he will never succeed, and you know why?"

"No, I can't say that," replied Pen, wincing.

"Then I will tell you. Because the more he conquers the more enemies he
makes, and nowhere friends. There, you are growing weary."

"Oh no," cried Pen. "I shrank because I felt my wound a little more. I
am glad to hear all this."

"But your friend--no?" said the _contrabandista_.

"That's because he cannot understand what you say; but I shall tell him
all that you have said when we are alone, and then he will be as much
your friend as I am, and quite as ready to fight in your cause, though
he is a boy."

"Good!" said the Spaniard. "And some day I shall put you both to the
proof."

CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT.

PUNCH PROVES STURDY.

"Thank you," said Punch. "I didn't want to bother you, you know,
comrade, only you see I ain't like you--I don't know a dozen languages,
French and Latin, and all the rest of them; and when you get on talking
to that _contrabando_ chap it worries me. Seems as if you are saying
all sorts of things about me. He will keep looking at me all the time
he's talking. I've got to know a bit now that it's meant for you, but
he will keep fixing his eyes like a pair of gimlets, and screwing them
into me; and then he goes on talking, and it makes you feel
uncomfortable like. Now, you see, there was the other day, a week--no,
it was nine days--ago, when you said when he was telling you all about
the Spanish King coming here--"

"Nine days ago, Punch! Nonsense! We can't have been here nine days."

"Oh yes, we can. It's ten, because there was the day before, when he
came first and doctored your leg."

"Well, you seem very sure about it; but I think you are wrong."

"I ain't," said Punch sturdily. "Lookye here," and he thrust his hand
into his pocket and brought it out again full of little pebbles.

"Well, what have they got to do with it?"

"Everything. I puts a fresh one into my pocket every day we stops."

"What for?"

"To count up with. Each of those means two shillings that we owe the
old gentleman for our prog. Knowing what a gentleman you are in your
ideas, I says to myself you will want to pay him some day--a shilling
apiece a day; that's what I put it at, and that means we owe him a
pound; and if we are going to stop here mu