nd fro several times
over, and as far as they could make out away to their left lay the track
by which they had approached during the night; but they could not be
sure.

That which had led them to this idea was the fact that it seemed as if
sentries had been stationed somewhere down there, one of whom had come
hurriedly into the amphitheatre as if in search of his chief.

"I say, comrade," said Punch, repeating his question rather impatiently,
"aren't we going to begin soon? I feel just like old O'Grady."

"How's that, Punch?"

"What he calls `spoiling for a fight, me boy.'"

"Oh, you needn't feel like that, Punch," said Pen, smiling.

"Well, don't you?"

"No. I never do. I never want to kill anybody."

"You don't? That ain't being a good soldier."

"I can't help that, Punch. Of course, when one's in for it I fire away
like the rest; but when I'm cool I somehow don't like the feeling that
one has killed or wounded some brave man."

"Oh, get out," cried the boy, "with your `killed or wounded some brave
man!' They ain't brave men--only Frenchies."

"Why, Punch, there are as brave men amongst the French as amongst the
English."

"Get out! I don't believe that," said the boy. "There can't be. If
there were, how could our General with his little bit of an army drive
the big army of Frenchies about as he does? Ask any of our fellows, and
they will tell you that one Englishman is worth a dozen Frenchies. Why,
you must have heard them say so."

"Oh yes, I have, Punch," said Pen, laughing, as he nursed his leg, which
reminded him of his wound from time to time. "But I don't believe it.
It's only bluster and brag, of which I think our fellows ought to be
ashamed. Why, you've more than once seen the French soldiers drive our
men back."

"Well, yes," said Punch grudgingly. "But that's when there have been
more of them."

"Not always, Punch."

"Why is it, then?"

"Oh, when they have had better positions and our officers have been
outflanked."

"Now you are dodging away from what we were talking about," said Punch.
"You were saying that you didn't like shooting the men."

"Well, I don't."

"That's because you don't understand things," cried the boy
triumphantly. "You see, although I am only a boy, and younger than you
are, I am an older soldier."

"Are you, Punch?" said Pen, smiling.

"Course I am! Why, you've only been about a year in the regiment."

"Yes, about a year."

"Well," cri