et, and the companions marched sharply towards
the opening where the group of smugglers were gathered.

"Bah!" ejaculated Punch contemptuously. "What a pity it is! I don't
believe that they will do much good with dumpy tools like them;" and the
boy literally glared at the short carbines the smugglers had slung
across their shoulders. "Of course a rifle would be best, but a good
musket and bayonet is worth a dozen of those blunderbusters. What do
they call them? Bell-mouthed? Why, they are just like so many
trumpet-things out of the band stuck upon a stick. Why, it stands to
reason that they can't go bang. It will only be a sort of a _pooh_!"
And the boy pursed up his lips and held his hand to his mouth as if it
were his lost bugle, and emitted a soft, low note--_poooooh_!

"_Dejeuner, mes amis_!" said the smuggler, as the boys advanced; and he
led the way past a group of his followers along the narrow passage-like
opening to where it became a hewn-out tunnel which showed the marks of
picks, and on into a rock-chamber of great extent, in one corner of
which a fire was blazing cheerfully, with the smoke rising to an outlet
in the roof. Directly after the aromatic scent of hot coffee smote the
nostrils of the hungry lads, as well as the aroma of newly fried ham,
while away at one side to the right they caught sight of the strangers
of the past night, Pen recognising at once the now uncloaked leader who
had presented a pistol at his head.

"Here, I say," whispered Punch excitedly, "hold me up, comrade, or I
shall faint."

"What's the matter?" said Pen anxiously. "You feel that dreadful pain
again? Is it your wound?"

"Pain? Yes," whispered Punch; "but it ain't there;" and he thrust his
hand into his pocket to feel for his knife.

It was a rough meal, roughly served, but so abundant that it was evident
that the smugglers were adepts in looking after the commissariat
department. In one part of the cavern-like place the King and his
followers were being amply supplied, while right on the other side--
partly hidden by a couple of stacks piled-up in the centre of the great
chamber, and formed in the one case of spirit-kegs, in the other of
carefully bound up bales that might have been of silk or velvet--were
grouped together near the fire some scores of the _contrabandistas_ who
seemed to be always coming and going--coming to receive portions of
food, and going to make place for others of the band.

And it w