“I d’know whether you have been dreaming or not, but you have been snoring till I was ashamed of you, and the more I stirred you up the more you would keep on saying, ‘Ramrod.’”
“Bah! Nonsense!”
“That’s what I thought, comrade. But steady! Here he is again.”
“Ah, my young friend!” said the contrabandista, holding out his hand. “Better after your long sleep?”
“Better? Yes,” replied Pen eagerly. “Leg’s very stiff; but I am ready to go on. Are we to march again?”
“Well, no, there’s not much chance of that, for we are pretty well surrounded by the enemy, and here we shall have to stay unless we can beat them off.”
“Where are we? What place is this?” asked Pen rather confusedly.
“One of our hiding-places, my friend, where we store up our goods and stable the mules when the pass near here is blocked up by snow or the frontier guards. Well, how do you feel now? Ready to go into hiding where you will be safe, or are you ready to help us against your enemies the French?”
“Will there be fighting?” asked Pen eagerly.
“You may be pretty sure of that; but I don’t want to force you two wounded young fellows into taking part therein unless you are willing.”