re not very careful about prisoners, and--"

Pen stopped short as he held on to the bough of one of the stunted trees
growing in the rocky bottom and peered out to sweep the side of the
valley where he felt that the mule-track ought to be.

He started back as if the bullet that had been fired from a musket had
cut the leaves above his head and stood listening to the roll of echoes
which followed the shot. Then there was another, and another, followed
by scores, telling him that a sharp skirmish had begun; and after a
while he could just make out a faint cloud of smoke above the trees,
where the dim vapour was slowly rising.

"Yes," he said, "that's where I thought the mule-path must be. But what
a height it is up! And what does it mean? Are our fellows coming back
and driving the enemy before them, or is it the other way on?"

There was no telling; but when, about an hour later, the firing had
grown nearer and then slowly become more and more distant till it died
away, Pen had learned one thing, and that was the necessity for keeping
carefully in hiding, for the enemy must be somewhere near.

He stepped back into the hut after silence once more reigned in the
false scene of peace, and found that the peppering of the musketry had
had no effect upon the sleeper, who did not stir when he leant over him
and laid his hand upon the poor fellow's forehead, which was cool and
moist.

"Ha!" sighed Pen, "he's not going to die; but he will be as weak as weak
for a month to come, and I ought to have been with our fellows instead
of hiding here, for I have no business to be doing ambulance work, and
so they would tell me. Ah!" he ejaculated, as he started to the door
again, for from somewhere much farther away there came the deep roll of
a platoon of musketry, which was repeated again and again, but always
more distant, though growing, while still more faintly, into the sounds
of a sharp engagement, till it died quite away.

"I never thought of that. That first firing I heard must have been the
enemy. I wonder I didn't think so before. I am sure now. There wasn't
a single shot that I could have said was from a rifle. But it is
impossible to say for certain which side is holding the valley. At any
rate our fellows were not there."

CHAPTER EIGHT.

THE KING'S SHILLING.

"Ha, ha, ha, ha!" A bright, ringing specimen of a youth's laugh, given
out by one who is healthy, strong, and fairly content, allowing for