“Hist!” ejaculated the priest, turning upon him and raising one hand.
“Oh, I don’t care for that,” whispered Punch, “and I don’t mind what you are. If you sold us to the enemy you shall have the first shot.”
The priest shook his hand at him as if to bid him be silent; and then, placing his lips close to the door, he said something in Spanish, and listened to a reply that came in a hurried voice.
“Ah!” ejaculated the priest; and then he whispered again.
The next minute he was busy barring the closed door; and this done, he turned to the boys, to cross the room and open wide the cupboard-like door in the corner. Then, returning to Pen, he helped him to rise again, guided his halting steps, and half-carrying him to the step-like ladder urged him with a word or two to climb up.
“What does he mean, comrade?” whispered Punch.
“He means there’s somebody coming, and we are to go upstairs.”
“Let’s stop here, comrade, and fight it out.”
“No, he means well,” replied Pen; and, making a brave effort, he began to climb the ladder, pulling himself up, but panting heavily the while and drawing his breath with pain.
As soon as the old man saw that he was being obeyed he turned to Punch, caught up Pen’s musket, and signed to the boy to follow him.