“March you off!” said Pen bitterly. “Why, you know you can’t stand.”
“Can’t! I’ve got to. You’ll let me hold tight of your arm. I’ve got to, comrade, and I will. It means setting one’s teeth pretty hard. Only wish I had got a bullet to bite. It would come easy then. Look here, wait a bit, and then you back up a bit closer to me. Haven’t tied my hands like yours. Just you edge close so as I can slip my fingers into your box. I want to get out one cartridge for the sake of the bullet.”
“You can’t, Punch. Didn’t you see they slipped off the belt, and that young Spaniard’s got it along with my rifle?”
“So he has! I didn’t know. Now then, wasn’t I right when I said you ought to have fired at him and brought him down? Well, I must have a bullet somehow. I know. I will try and get the girl to get hold of the case; only I don’t know how it’s to be done without knowing what to say. Can’t you put me up to it, comrade?”
“No, Punch.”
“But you might give a fellow a bit of advice.”
“My advice is to lie still and wait.”
“Well, that’s pretty advice, that is, comrade. Wait till they comes and makes an end of a fellow if he breaks down, for I am beginning to think that I sha’n’t be able to go through with it.”
“Let’s wait and see what happens, Punch. We have done our best, and we can do no more.”
Just then Pen’s attention was taken up by the young officer, who came to the door of the hut, yawned, and stood looking about at his men before slowly sauntering round the bivouac as if to see that all was right, the sentries drawing themselves up stiffly as he passed on, till he caught sight of the Spanish girl and the lad seated together in the full light cast by the fire.