the same as I was, that you were glad that this
horrible business was nearly over, and that these Spanish fellows, who
have done nothing to help us, must now finish it themselves?"

"Well, not azackly," replied the boy. "What I was thinking was that
it's all over now--as soon as we have had another shot apiece."

"Yes," said Pen; "one more shot apiece, and we have fired our last
cartridges."

"But look here," said Punch, "couldn't we manage with powder and shot
from their blunderbusters?"

"I don't know," said Pen wearily. "I only know this, that I shall be
too heart-sick and tired out to try."

CHAPTER THIRTY FIVE.

FOR THE KING.

As the evening drew near, it was to the two young riflemen as if Nature
had joined hands with the enemy and had seemed to bid them stand back
and rest while she took up their work and finished it to the bitter end.

"It's just as if Nature were fighting against us," said Pen.

"Nature! Who's she? What's she got to do with it?" grumbled Punch.
"Phew! Just feel here! The sun's as low down as that, and here's my
musket-barrel so hot you can hardly touch it. But I don't know what you
mean."

"Well, it doesn't matter," said Pen bitterly. "I only meant that, now
the enemy are not coming on, it's growing hotter and hotter, and one's
so thirsty one feels ready to choke."

"Oh, I see now. It's just the same here. But why don't they come on.
Must be half an hour since they made their last charge, and if they
don't come soon my gun will go off all of itself, and then if they come
I sha'n't have a shot for them. Think they will come now?"

"Yes," said Pen; "but I believe they are waiting till it's dark and we
sha'n't be able to see to shoot."

"Why, the cowards!" cried Punch angrily. "The cowardly, mean beggars!
Perhaps you are right; but, I say, comrade, they wouldn't stop till it's
dark if they knew that we had only got one cartridge apiece, and that we
were so stupid and giddy that I am sure I couldn't hit. Why, last time
when they came on they seemed to me to be swimming round and round."

"Yes, it was horrible," said Pen thoughtfully, as he tried to recollect
the varied incidents of the last charge, and gave up in despair. "I
wish it was all over, Punch!"

"Well, don't be in such a hurry about that," said the boy. "I wish the
fighting was over, but to wish it was _all_ over sounds ugly. You see,
they must be precious savage with us for shooting as we have, and