esley
and gave him command of the British army.

Whereupon Punch exclaimed, "I never saw such a fellow as you are to
sleep! Do wake up. Here's Mr Contrabando waiting to speak to you, and
he looks as if he wanted to go away."

"Punch!" exclaimed Pen, starting up.

"Punch it is. Are you awake now?"

"Awake? Yes. Have I been dreaming?"

"I d'know whether you have been dreaming or not, but you have been
snoring till I was ashamed of you, and the more I stirred you up the
more you would keep on saying, `Ramrod.'"

"Bah! Nonsense!"

"That's what I thought, comrade. But steady! Here he is again."

"Ah, my young friend!" said the _contrabandista_, holding out his hand.
"Better after your long sleep?"

"Better? Yes," replied Pen eagerly. "Leg's very stiff; but I am ready
to go on. Are we to march again?"

"Well, no, there's not much chance of that, for we are pretty well
surrounded by the enemy, and here we shall have to stay unless we can
beat them off."

"Where are we? What place is this?" asked Pen rather confusedly.

"One of our hiding-places, my friend, where we store up our goods and
stable the mules when the pass near here is blocked up by snow or the
frontier guards. Well, how do you feel now? Ready to go into hiding
where you will be safe, or are you ready to help us against your enemies
the French?"

"Will there be fighting?" asked Pen eagerly.

"You may be pretty sure of that; but I don't want to force you two
wounded young fellows into taking part therein unless you are willing."

"I am willing," said Pen decisively; "but it's only fair that I should
ask my comrade, who is only one of the buglers of my regiment."

"Oh, of course," said the smuggler captain, "a non-combatant. He
carries a musket, I see, like yourself."

"Yes," replied Pen, with a smile, "but it is only a French piece. We
belong to a rifle-regiment by rights."

"Yes; I have heard of it," said the smuggler.

"Well, I will ask him," said Pen, "for he doesn't understand a word we
are saying.--Punch," he continued, addressing the boy, "the
_contrabandista_ wants to know whether we will fire a few shots against
the French who are trying to take the Spanish King."

"Where do they want to take him?" cried the boy eagerly.

"Back to prison."

"Why, of course we will," said the boy sharply. "What do you want to
ask that for?"

"Because he knows that you are not a private soldier, but a bugle-boy."

"Well, I can't