"You don't half look," cried Punch angrily, bending forward, nursing his tender feet and staring wildly into the distance. "I ketched sight of a bit of scarlet ever so far off, and that must mean Bri'sh soldiers."

"No; it might be something painted red--or a patch of poppies perhaps."

"Oh, go it!" cried Punch angrily. "You will say next it is a jerrynium in a red pot, same as my mother always used to have in her window. It's red-coats, I tell you. There, can't you see them?"

"No."

"Tchah! You are not looking right. Look yonder--about a mile away from the top of that hill just to the right of that bit of a wood. Now, do you see?"

"No," said Pen slowly. "Yes, I do--men marching. Do you see that flash in the sunlight. Bayonets! Punch, you are right!"

"Ah!" said the boy. "Now then, what do you say to a swim across?"

"Yes, I am ready," said Pen. "How far is it, do you think?"

"About a hundred yards," replied the boy. "Oh, we ought to do that easy. You see, it will be only paddle at first, and then wade till you get up to your chest, and then swim. Perhaps we sha'n't have to swim at all. Rough rivers like this are always shallow. When you are ready I am. We sha'n't have to take off our shoes and stockings; and if we get very wet, well, we can wring our clothes, and they will soon dry in the sun. Look sharp and give the word. I am ready for anything with the British army in sight."

There was no hesitation now. The lads took the precaution of securing their cartouche-boxes between the muzzle of their pieces and the ramrod; and, keeping the muskets still slung so that at any moment they could let them drop loose to hang from the shoulder, they stepped carefully down amongst the stones until the pleasantly cool water began to foam above their feet, and then waded carefully on till they were knee-deep and began to feel the pressure of the water against their legs.

"Ain't going to be deep," said Punch cheerily. "Don't it feel nice to your toddlers? How fast it runs, though! Why, if it was deep enough to swim in it would carry you along faster than you could walk. It strikes me that we shall get across without having it up to one's waistbelt."

The boy seemed pretty correct in his judgment, for as they carefully waded on--carefully, for the bottom was very uneven--they were nearly half across, and still the water was not so deep as the boy had prophesied.

"There! What did I tell you?" he said; and then with his next step he caught at his companion's hand and went down to his chin.

The result was that Pen lost his balance, and the pair, half-struggling, half-swimming for about a dozen yards, were carried swiftly along to where a patch of rock showed itself in mid-stream with the water foaming all around.

They were swept right round against the rocks, and found bottom directly, struggling up, with the swift stream only now to their knees.

"What a hole!" cried Pen, panting a little with his exertions. "I say, you must take care, Punch."

"Oh yes, I will take care," said the boy, puffing and choking. "I don't know how much water I have swallowed. But it's all shallow now, and we are half-over. How about your cartridges? Mine's all wet."

"Then I suppose mine are too," said Pen.

"Never mind," cried Punch cheerfully. "Perhaps they will be all right if we lay them out to dry in the sun. Now then, are you ready? It looks as if it will be all shallow the rest of the way."

"I sha'n't trust it," said Pen, "so let's keep hold of hands."

They started again, yielding a little to the stream, and wading diagonally for the bank on Punch's left, but making very slow progress, for Pen noted that the water, which was rough and shallow where they were, seemed to flow calmly and swiftly onward a short distance away, and was evidently deep.

"Steady! Steady!" cried Pen, hanging away a little towards the bank from which they had started.

"All right; I am steady enough, only one can't do as one likes. It's just as if all the water was pushing behind. Ah! Look out, comrade!"

Pen was already looking out, and he had need, for once more his companion had stepped as it were off a shelf into deep water, and the next moment, still grasping Punch's hand with all his might, he was striking out; and then together they were being borne rapidly down by the stream.

CHAPTER FORTY THREE.

FRESH COMRADES.

Pen never could quite settle in his own mind how it all happened. He was conscious of the rush of water and the foam bubbling against his lips, while he clung tightly to his companion till they were swept against rocks, borne into eddies, whirled round now beneath the surface, now gasping for breath as darkness was turned into light; then feeling as if they were being dragged over rough pieces of rock that were slimy with weed as he caught at them with one hand, and then, still clinging to Punch, who clung to him, they were being carried slowly over a shallow patch where the water raced beside their ears, till at last he struggled out, half-blind and dizzy, to find himself alone, with the sun beating hotly upon his head.

He was giddy, breathless, confused in his excitement, as he pressed the water from his eyes; and then he uttered a cry, for about twenty yards from where he stood, with the water barely up to his ankles, he could see Punch lying upon his face, gradually gliding away towards the spot where the stream was beginning to run smooth and deep.

He could recall this part of his adventure, though, well enough: how he staggered and splashed to the place, where he could catch hold of the boy, and turn him over before getting hold of his belt and dragging him right out of the river on to the sandy bank where it was hot and dry.

And then he could recall how a great despair came upon him, and he knelt helplessly gazing down at his comrade, with the horrible feeling upon him that he was dead.

Then all was misty again. The river was running onward with a swift rush towards its mouth, and he was conscious that he was safe upon the bank from which he had started. Then he knew that he must have swooned away, and lay, for how long he could not tell; but the next thing that he remembered clearly was that he opened his eyes to see Punch bending over him and rocking him to and fro according to the drill instructions they had both learned as to how to deal with a fellow-soldier who has been half-drowned.

"Oh, Punch," he cried, in a voice that sounded to him like a hoa.r.s.e whisper, "I thought you were dead!"

The boy was blubbering as if his heart would break, and it was some moments before he half-sobbed and half-whimpered out, "Why, you couldn't have done that, because it's what I was thinking about you. But, I say, comrade, you are all right, aren't you?"

"I--I suppose so," gasped Pen.

"Oh, don't talk like that," sobbed the boy.

"This 'ere's the worst of all. Do say as you are coming round. Why, you must be, or else you couldn't talk. But, I say, did you save me, or did I save you? Blest if I know! And here we are on the wrong side after all! What's to be done now?"

"Wring our clothes, I suppose, Punch," said Pen wearily, "or lie down and rest without."

"Well, I feel as if I should like to do that," said Punch. "This 'ere sand is hot and dry enough to make us steam. I say, comrade," he continued, wiping his eyes and speaking in a piteous tone, "don't you take no notice of me and the water squeezing out of my eyes. I am so full of it that it's running out. But we are all right, comrade. I was beginning to think you had gone and left me all alone. But I say, this 'ere's a nice place, this Spain! Here, what's the matter with you?"

continued Punch excitedly. "Don't turn like that, choking and pynting.

Oh, this 'ere's worse still! He's in a blessed fit!"

He had seized Pen by the shoulders now, and began shaking him violently, till Pen began to struggle with him, forced him aside, and then pointing across the river, he gasped out, "Cavalry! Look, look!"

The boy swung himself round, one hand felt for his musket, the other at his belt, where the bayonet should have been, for the word cavalry suggested to him preparations for receiving a charge.

Then, following the direction of his companion's pointing hand, he fully grasped what was meant, for coming down the slope across the river were a couple of English light dragoons, who had caught sight of the two figures on the opposite bank.

The men were approaching cautiously, each with his carbine at the ready, and for the moment it seemed as if the vedette were about to place the lives of the two lads in fresh peril. But as they drew nearer the boys rose and shouted; though the rushing noise of the river drowned their words.

As the boys continued to gesticulate, the men began to grasp the fact that they had been in the water, and what they were, for one of them began pointing along the stream and waving his hand, as he shouted again and again.

"Can't--understand--what--you--say!" yelled Punch; and then putting his hand to his lips, he shouted with all his might, "English! Help!"

The word "help" evidently reached the ears of one of the dragoons, for, rising in his stirrups, he waved the hand that held his carbine and pointed downstream, yelling out something again.

"I don't know, comrade," cried Punch dolefully. "I think it was 'Come on!'"

"I know now," cried Pen. "It was 'ford.'"

Then the drenched, exhausted pair staggered on over the dry sand, which suggested that at times the river must be twice its present width; and the vedette guided their horses carefully on amongst the stones of the farther bank, till, a few hundred yards lower down, where the river was clear of obstructions and ran swiftly on in a regular ripple, the two horses turned right and paced gently down into the water, which, half-way to their knees, splashed up as they made for the opposite bank, which the lads reached at the same time as the vedette.