"To where the French are lying in camp, so that they may get hold of us again? Nonsense, Punch! What was the good of our slipping away if it was only to give ourselves up?"

"But we didn't know then that we should run up against these wolves."

"We are not going to run up against them, Punch, but they are going to run away from us if we behave like men."

"But, don't you see, I can't behave like a man when I'm only a boy? Oh, there they go again!" half-whispered the poor fellow, who seemed thoroughly unnerved. "Come along, there's a good chap."

"No," said Pen firmly. "You can't behave like a man, but you can behave like a brave boy, and that's what you are going to do. If we ever get back to our company you wouldn't like me to tell the lads that you were so frightened by the howling of the wolves that you let me go on alone to face them, and--"

"Here, I say," cried Punch excitedly, "you don't mean to say that you would go on alone!"

"I mean to say I would," said Pen firmly; "but I shall not have to, because you are coming on along with me."

"No, I ain't," said the boy stubbornly.

"Yes, you are."

"You don't know," continued the boy, through his set teeth. "Hanged if I do--so there!"

Pen laughed bitterly.

"Well, you are a queer fellow, Punch," he said. "You stood by me yesterday and faced dozens of those French cha.s.seurs, and fought till we had fired off our last cartridge, and then set-to to keep them off with the b.u.t.t of your musket, though you were quite sure they would come on again and again."

"Perhaps I did," said the boy huskily, "because I felt I ought to as a soldier, and it was dooty; but 'tain't a soldier's dooty to get torn to pieces by wolves. Ugh! It's horrid, and I can't bear it."

"Come on, Punch. I am going."

"No, don't! I say, pray don't, comrade!" cried the boy pa.s.sionately; and he caught at Pen's arm and clung to it with all his might. "I tell you I'd shoulder arms, keep touch with you, and keep step and march straight up to a regiment of the French, with the bullets flying all about our ears. I wouldn't show the white once till I dropped. You know I'd be game if it was obeying orders, and all our fellows coming on behind. I tell you I would, as true as true!"

"What!" said Pen, turning upon him firmly, "you would do that if you were ordered?"

"That I would, and I wouldn't flinch a bit. You know I never did,"

cried the boy pa.s.sionately. "Didn't I always double beside my company-leader, and give the calls whenever I was told?"

"Yes; and now I am going to be your company-leader to-night. Now then, my lad, forward!"

Pen jerked his arm free and stepped off at once, while his comrade staggered with the violence of the thrust he had received. Then, recovering himself, he stood fast, struggling with the stubborn rage that filled his young breast, till Pen was a dozen paces in front, marching st.u.r.dily on in the direction of the howls that they had heard, and without once looking back.

Then from out of the silence came the boy's voice.

"You'll be sorry for this," he shouted.

Pen made no reply.

"Oh, it's too bad of him," muttered Punch. "I say," he shouted, "you will be sorry for this, comrade. D'ye 'ear?"

Tramp, tramp, tramp went Pen's feet over the stony ground.

"Oh, I say, comrade, this is too bad!" whimpered the boy; and then, giving his musket one or two angry slaps as if in an exaggerated salute, he shouldered the piece and marched steadily after his leader.

Pen halted till the boy closed up, and then started again.

"There, Punch," he said quietly, "I knew you better than you know yourself."

The boy made no reply, but marched forward with his teeth set; and evidently now thoroughly strung-up to meet anything that was in store, he stared straight before him into the darkness and paid no heed to the distant howls that floated to them upon the night-air from time to time.

CHAPTER FORTY.

FRIENDS OR FOES?

"This is rather hard work, Punch, lad," said Pen, after a long silence; but the boy took no notice. "The ground's so rugged that I've nearly gone down half-a-dozen times. Well, haven't you anything to say?"

The boy kept his teeth firmly pressed together and marched on in silence; and the night tramp went on for quite a couple of hours, till, growing wearied out by the boy's determination, Pen began again to try and break the icy reserve between them.

"What a country this is!" he said. "To think of our going on hour after hour never once seeing a sign of any one's dwelling-place. Ah, look at that!" he exclaimed excitedly. "Do you see that light?"

"Yes," said Punch sulkily, "a wolf's eye staring at us."

"Then he's got one shut," said Pen, laughing softly. "I can only see one. Why, you are thinking of nothing else but wolves. It's a little watch-fire far away."

Punch lowered his piece quickly and c.o.c.ked it.

"Look out, comrade," he said, "some one will challenge directly. Drop down together, don't us, if he does?"

"I don't think they will be sentries right up here," said Pen.

"What then?"

"Shepherds," replied Pen abruptly.

He was about to add, "to keep off the wolves," but he checked himself in time, as he half-laughed and thought that it would scare his companion again.

Punch remained silent and marched on, keeping step, till they were getting very close to a tiny sc.r.a.p of a smouldering fire; and then there was a rush of feet as if about a couple of dozen goats had been startled, to spring up and scatter away, with their h.o.r.n.y hoofs pattering amongst the stones; and at the same moment the two lads became aware of the fact that after their habit the st.u.r.dy little animals had been sleeping around a couple of fierce-looking, goatskin-clothed, half-savage Spanish goat-herds, one of whom kicked at the fire, making it burst into a temporary blaze which lit up their swarthy features and flashed in their eyes, and, what was more startling still, on the blades of the two long knives which they s.n.a.t.c.hed from their belts.

"_Amigos, amigos_!" cried Pen, and he grounded arms, Punch following his example.

"_Amigos! No, Franceses_," shouted one of the men, as the fire burnt up more brightly; and he pointed at Pen's musket.

"_No_," cried Pen, "_Ingleses_." And laying down his piece near the fire, he coolly seated himself and began to warm his hands. "Come on, Punch," he said, "sit down; and give me your haversack."

The boy obeyed, and as the two men looked at them doubtingly Pen took the haversack, held it out, thrust his hand within two or three times, and shook his head before pointing to his lips and making signs as if he wanted to eat.

"_El pano, agua_," he said.

The men turned to gaze into each other's eyes as if in doubt, and then began slowly to thrust their long, sharp knives into their belts; and it proved directly afterwards that Pen's pantomime had been sufficiently good, for one of them strode away into the darkness, where the lads could make out a sort of wind-shade of piled-up stones, from which he returned directly afterwards with what proved to be a goatskin-bag, which he carried to his companion, and then went off again, to return from somewhere behind the stones, carrying a peculiar-looking earthen jar, which proved to be filled with water.

Just then Punch drew the two muskets a little farther from the fire, and to Pen's surprise took off his jacket and carefully covered their locks.