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"Yes," said Pen; "one more shot apiece, and we have fired our last cartridges." "But look here," said Punch, "couldn't we manage with powder and shot from their blunderbusters?" "I don't know," said Pen wearily. "I only know this, that I shall be too heart-sick and tired out to try."

"I'm afraid you will have to, comrade both on us like Englishmen. But if we are to be shot for furriners I should like it to have been as soldiers, and by soldiers who know how to use their guns, and not by Spanish what-do-you-call-'ems robbers and thieves with little short blunderbusters." There was a few moments' pause, during which hurried talking went on.

"Of course a rifle would be best, but a good musket and bayonet is worth a dozen of those blunderbusters. What do they call them? Bell-mouthed? Why, they are just like so many trumpet-things out of the band stuck upon a stick. Why, it stands to reason that they can't go bang. It will only be a sort of a pooh!"

"I think so," replied Pen. "Must be, comrade. Those blunderbusters trabookoos don't they call them? couldn't go off with a bang like that. All right; we are ready. But, I say, a soldier should always make his hay when the sun shines. Fill your pockets and haversack, comrade. There they go again! I am glad. It's like the old days once more. It will be `Forward! directly a skirmishing advance.