!Tention Part 9

"Well, weren't they weak?"

"Yes, I forgot all that; but I wasn't so bad as this yesterday. It was yesterday, wasn't it?"

"Yes. Don't you remember?"

"No. How was it?"

"There, don't you bother your brains about that."

"But I want to know."

"And I want you to do all you can to get well."

"Course you do. 'Tisn't fever, is it?"

"Fever! No! Yes, you were feverish. Every one is after a wound. Now then," And he took out and opened his knife.

"Wound! Wound!" said the boy, watching him. "Whatcher going to do with your knife? Take your bay'net if you want to finish a fellow off."

"Well, I don't," said Pen, laughing.

"'Tain't anything to laugh at, comrade."

"Yes, it is, when you talk nonsense. Now then, breakfast."

"Don't gammon," said the poor fellow feebly. "My head isn't all swimmy now. Beginning to remember. Didn't you carry me down here?"

"To be sure, and precious heavy you were!"

"Good chap!" said the boy, sighing. "You always was a trump; but don't play with a poor fellow. There can't be no breakfast."

"Oh, can't there? I'll show you; and I want to begin. I say, Punch, I'm nearly starved."

"I'm not," said the poor fellow sadly. "I couldn't eat."

"Oh, well, you have got to, so look sharp, or I shall go mad."

"Whatcher mean?"

"I told you I'm starving. I have hardly touched anything for two days except water."

"Well, go on then. What is there for breakfast?"

"Bread."

"Ugh! Don't! Black dry bread! It makes me feel sick."

"Bread and milk."

"Where did you get the milk?"

"Never you mind," said Pen, plunging his knife into the dark sop which half-filled the little pail. "Now then, you have got to eat first."

"No, don't ask me; I can't touch it," and the boy closed his eyes against the piece of saturated bread that his companion held out to him on the knife.

"You must," said Pen; "so look sharp."

"I can't, I tell you."

"Well, then, I shall have to starve."

"No, no; go on."

"After you."

It took a good deal of pressure, but at last the truth of the French saying about its being only the first step that costs was proved, for after the first mouthful, of which the poor fellow shudderingly partook, the boy consented to open his mouth again, after holding out until his amateur surgeon and nurse had consented to share the meal, which proved refres.h.i.+ng to the patient, who partook of a little; while, bearing in mind that he could at all events restore the fluid food, Pen ate ravenously, his spirits rising with every mouthful.

"It will go hard," he said to himself, "if I can't forage something else. There are the trout, to begin with. I know I can catch some of them in the shallows, and that too without rod or line. That is," he added, "if we are not found out and marched off as prisoners."

"Whatcher thinking about?" said Punch drowsily.

"Catching fish, and making a fire to cook them."

"There's my flint and steel in my satchel, but where's your fish?"

"In the river."

"But you can't catch 'em."

"Oh, can't I, Punch?"

"Oh yes, I know," piped the boy. "They are trout. I saw some the other day when we crossed that stream. I saw some run under the stones, and wanted to creep up and tiddle one, only I couldn't leave the ranks."

"Ah, well, there are no ranks to leave now, Punch, and we shall have plenty of time to tiddle the trout, as you call it, for we shall have to stay here till you get well."

"I say, don't talk, please. Want to go to sleep."

"That's right," said Pen cheerfully. "Sleep away, and I won't bathe your wound till you wake again."

The boy made no answer, but dropped off at once.

"That's better," thought Pen, "and while he sleeps I will see whether I can't get some of the trout."

He waited until his companion was breathing heavily, and then he seated himself by the door and began to carefully clean his rifle and accoutrements, which soldierly task at an end, he stood over the sleeping boy a few minutes, and then stepped outside the dark hut to plunge into the suns.h.i.+ne; but, recollecting himself, he stepped in amongst the trees, and keeping close in their shelter moved from spot to spot spending nearly half an hour searching every eminence for signs of danger.

"The coast seems clear," he said to himself, "and the enemy may have moved on; but I must be careful. I want to join our fellows, of course; but if I'm made prisoner it will be the death of poor Punch, for they are not very careful about prisoners, and--"

Pen stopped short as he held on to the bough of one of the stunted trees growing in the rocky bottom and peered out to sweep the side of the valley where he felt that the mule-track ought to be.