not be called on to ruin this wretched man for life,

by declaring him a marauder and a thief.

"This man-Jenkins—what's his character?"

Good, Colonel; very good; I may say excellent!" stammered out the man's partner in crime.

Humph-his face doesn't say so."

"He has never been punished, Colonel; indeed he is recommended for promotion," pleaded Cator, trembling all over for fear Jenkins should confess to his accomplice, or Blunt or Gilbert recognise him. Colonel Biglow always supported his officers, though he roared at them; therefore no one present was surprised when, after hearing the splendid character that Cator went on to give the prisoner, the Colonel let the latter off with the very light punishment (for those days) of 150 lashes. Jenkins grimly saluted without a word; but the look he cast on Blunt as he was being led away was one of hatred never to be forgotten.

"Now then, Corporal, does your memory serve you yet as to the other fellow?"

Blunt turned very pale; he knew the great danger he was in; but his inherent courage and sense of duty forced him to speak: "I do, sir,” he replied.

"Then who is it, in Heaven's name?"

"That's the man, sir; Captain Cator!"

Imminent peril affects men differently. Cator turned

fiery red, and burst into a torrent of denials, with loud exclamations of horror at the accusation.

"" Do you know what you say, man?" roared out the Colonel. "Do you know you accuse an officer of almost the worst crime he could commit? Answer me !"

"I do, sir," was the firm answer.

“Can your comrades corroborate you? Mind, this is very serious," asked the Colonel, calming down.

"Dudgeon cannot, sir; Gilbert can, I suppose-and the woman." Gilbert did indeed recognise Cator at once; but his cowardly fears of injuring an officer overcame him, and he declared point-blank that he was unable to say that the Captain was the man!

"The woman! let us have the woman back,” cried the Colonel; and she was at once brought into the room. At first she seemed doubtful; then she said she thought he must be the man; and finally she insisted that Cator, and no other, was the plunderer. Colonel Biglow did not know what to do in the emergency, so he adopted the wise course of having the room cleared while he consulted with the senior officers of the San Lorenzo post on the whole affair. In about an hour's time, the decision was announced to all parties concerned.

"We have come to the conclusion," said the Colonel, "that this accusation cannot be proceeded with, one

way or the other. The corporal is young, but he is so highly thought of by his officers that we cannot think he has made this charge through malice. We all believe he has unfortunately, in the confusion, haste, darkness, and other exciting circumstances, made a gross mistake; but we do not believe it is a criminal mistake, and therefore, there will be no trial; while Captain Cator's high character and standing preclude any real necessity for there being a court-martial on the corporal. Gilbert positively denies the identity; the woman- —a bitter enemy who would swear anything to add to her revenge-doubted, and it was evidently only on second thoughts that she made up her mind to have a second victim; and for these reasons we have decided to dismiss the whole affair, with a solemn warning to Corporal Blunt against forming opinions too hastily-especially when they refer to his officers. Clear the room!"

Young Blunt retired to ponder over the matter, and to receive the sarcastic congratulations of his comrades; who assured him, with many a gibe and sneer, that he was on the high road to promotion-the gallows, or the halberts-whenever the officers could get a fair chance at him. He did not mind their jokes; but he felt deeply the defection of Bob Gilbert, who, he was quite well aware, had committed

perjury through mere cowardice; and he was also painfully certain that the previous night's work, together with what had just passed, had made for him two-if not more-bitter and relentless enemies.

CHAPTER II.

'HURRAH, FOR THE FRONT!'

DISMALLY and wearily did that miserable winter

drag its slow length along; action or warfare proper there was absolutely none; enterprise, whether of attack or defence, was wholly wanting; dull, harassing, and crushingly laborious watching, was the sole monotonous duty; "the romance of war," filled with the idea of which many a deceived youngster had left England, had no being whatever; and the Christmas of 1835 remained as one never to be forgotten by the survivors of the unfortunate British Legion. Famine, disease, exposure, and neglect of all kinds. did their deadly work only too surely. The streets of Vittoria-the central point of the long chain of outposts occupied-resembled, in some degree, those of the City of London when the great plague was devastating England's metropolis-the dead seemed almost more numerous than the living, and the living

F

almost envied the silent dead. But it was not natural (or rather unnatural) causes alone that swept multitudes into the foul public pits misnamed gravesother agencies were at work, and those of the direst kind. There grew and grew in the English ranks a horrid whisper of poisoned food, that before long burst trumpet-tongued from one end of the lines to the other! Men were known to sicken unaccountably, and wear away until they died of some malady quite unknown to the physicians. At first there were isolated cases; next they became more common; then investigations were carefully made; and finally it was discovered that amongst the bakers in Vittoria were a number of enemies, who mixed oxalic acid with the bread that they kneaded for the English soldiers!

The treachery was a horrid one- -one that even savages of the lowest type would hardly have attempted to carry out in such a wholesale fashion -and the indignation of the Legionaries knew no bounds. The bakers were seized en masse by the infuriated men, and would there and then have all been murdered-rent limb from limb indeed-had it not been for the interference of the officers and some of the most just of the men, who felt that a fair trial should be granted to even the greatest miscreants.

The bakers were taken from the throng of soldiers.