“Why, she was—”
“Yes, was,” whispered Punch again; “but where is she now? She went off like a shot into the woods.”
“Ah!” exclaimed Pen, with a look of relief in his eyes.
“Yes, she’s gone; and now I want to know what’s going to be next. Here comes the officer. What’ll be his first order? To shoot us, and that young Spaniel too?”
“No,” said Pen. “But don’t talk; he’s close here.”
The officer approached his prisoners now, closely followed by one of his men, whose galons showed that he was a sergeant.
“Badly wounded, eh?” said the officer in French.
“Yes, sir; too bad to stand.”
“The worse for him,” said the officer. “Well, we can’t take wounded men with us; we have enough of our own.”
“Yes, sir,” said the sergeant; and Pen felt the blood seem to run cold through his veins.