a hundred yards from the two boys, who crouched,
trembling with excitement, waiting impatiently to afford the little help
they could by bringing their muskets to bear. Then, as the firing went
on, there was another little rush of retiring men, half-a-dozen coming
one by one into sight, to turn, seek the cover of the wall, and fire
back as if in the hope of checking pursuit. But a couple of these went
down, and it soon became evident from the firing that the advance was
steadily continued.

Another ten minutes of wild excitement followed, and then there was a
rush of the Spaniards, who continued their predecessors' tactics, firing
back and sheltering themselves; but the enemy were still hidden from the
two lads.

"Let's--oh, do let's cross over to the other side," cried Punch.
"There's two places there where we could get shelter;" and he pointed to
a couple of heaps of stone that diagonally were about forty yards in
advance.

But as he spoke there was another rush of their friends round the curve,
with the same tactics, while those who had come before now dashed across
the great passage and occupied the two rough stoneworks themselves.

"Too late!" muttered Punch amidst the roar of musketry which now seemed
to have increased in a vast degree, multiplied as the shots were by
echoing repetitions as they crossed and recrossed from wall to wall.

"No!" shouted Pen. "Fire!" For half-a-dozen French chasseurs suddenly
came running into sight in pursuit of the last little party of the
Spaniards, dropped upon one knee, and, rapidly taking aim, fired at and
brought down a couple more of the retreating men.

There was a sharp flash from Punch's piece, and a report from Pen's
which sounded like an echo from the first, and two of the half-dozen
chasseurs rolled over in the dust, while their comrades turned on the
instant and ran back out of sight, followed by a tremendous yell of
triumph from the Spaniards, who had now manned the two heaps of stones
on the other side.

There was another yell, and another which seemed to fill the entry to
the old mine with a hundred echoes, while as the boys were busily
reloading a figure they did not recognise came running towards their
coign of vantage at the top of his speed.

"Quick, Punch! An enemy! Bayonets!" cried Pen.

"Tain't," grumbled Punch. "Nearly ready. It's Contrabando."

The next minute the Spaniard was behind them, slapping each on the back.

"Bravo! Bravissimo!"