ed your pan through looking at him. You don't think I
ought to have fired, do you?"

"You know I don't, Punch," said Pen shortly. "It would have been
cowardly to have fired at a man like that."

"But I say," said Punch, "wasn't it cheek! It was as good as telling us
that he didn't care a button for us."

"I don't believe he does," said Pen thoughtfully; "but, I say, Punch, I
shouldn't like to be one of his men."

"What, them two as we brought down? Of course not!"

"No, no; I mean those who ran away and left him in the lurch. He's just
the sort of captain who would be ready to lay about him with the flat of
his sword."

"And serve the cowardly beggars right," cried Punch. "Think they will
come on again?"

"Come on again, with such a prize as the Spanish King to be made a
prisoner? Yes, and before long too. There, be ready. There'll be
another rush directly."

There was, and almost before the words were out of Pen's lips. This
time, though, another officer, as far as the lads could make out, was
leading the little detachment, which was about twice as strong as the
last, and the lads fired once more, with the result that two of the
attacking party went down; but instead of the rest turning tail in panic
and rushing back, they followed their officer a dozen yards farther.
Then they began to waver, checked their pace, and stood hesitating;
while, in spite of their officer excitedly shouting and waving his sword
to make them advance, they came to a stand, with the brave fellow some
distance in front, where the lads could hear him shout and rage before
making a dash back at the leading files, evidently with the intention of
flogging them into following him.

But, damped by the fate of their fellows, it only wanted the appearance
of flight, as they judged the officer's movement, to set them in motion,
and they began to run back in panic, followed by the jeering yells of
the _contrabandistas_, who hurried their pace by sending a scattered
volley from their carbines, not a bullet from which took effect.

"Look at that, Punch; there's another brave fellow!"

"Yes," cried the boy, finishing loading. "There, go on, load away, I
don't want you to shoot him. Yes, he's another plucky un. But, my
word, look at him! He must be a-cussing and a-swearing like hooray.
But I call that stupid. He needn't have done that. My word, ain't he
in a jolly rage!"

Much to the surprise of Pen, the officer did not imitate