iers and
mean to die game."

Pen did not withdraw his eyes from the man who held his life in hand,
and reached out behind him to grasp Punch's arm; but his effort was
vain.

Just then the seated man seemed to recollect himself, for he threw the
empty pistol upon the floor and tugged another from his belt, cocked it,
and then swung himself round, directing the pistol at the door, which
was dashed open by the old priest, who ran in and stood, panting hard,
between the prisoners and the holder of the pistol.

He was too breathless to speak, but he gesticulated violently before
grasping Pen's shoulder with one hand and waving the other round as if
to drive back those who held the prisoners upon their knees.

He tried to speak, but the words would not come; and then there was
another diversion, for a fresh-comer dashed in through the open door,
and, regardless of the swords directed at him, forced his way to where
the prisoners were awaiting their fate.

He, too, was breathless with running, for he sank quickly on one knee,
caught at the hand which held the pistol and raised it quickly to his
lips, as he exclaimed in French:

"No, no, your Majesty! Not that!"

"They are spies," shouted the tired-looking Spaniard who had given the
command which had sent his followers to make the seizure in the loft.

"No spies," cried the _contrabandista_. "Our and his Majesty's
friends--wounded English soldiers who had been fighting upon our side."

There was a burst of ejaculations; swords were sheathed, and the
dethroned Spanish monarch uncocked his pistol and thrust it back into
his belt.

"They have had a narrow escape," he said bitterly. "Why were you not
here with the friends you promised?"

"They are outside awaiting my orders, your Majesty," said the smuggler
bluntly. "May I remind you that you are not to your time, neither have
you come by the pass I promised you to watch."

"Bah! How could I, when I was driven by these wretched French, who are
ten times our number? We had to reach the trysting-place how we could,
and it was natural that these boys should be looked upon as spies. Now
then, where are you going to take us? The French soldiers cannot be far
behind."

"No, sire; they are very near."

"And your men--where are they?"

"Out yonder, sire, between you and your pursuers."

"Then are we to continue our flight to-night?"

"I cannot tell yet, sire. Not if my men can hold the enemy at bay. It
may