"There, Punch," said Pen, rising; "you didn't dream, did you, that our
friends crept up with their knives in the night to make an end of you?"
"No," cried the boy excitedly, as he turned to gaze after the men, who
were some little distance away amongst the goats, "I didn't dream it.
It was real. First one of them and then the other did come with his
knife in his hand; but I cocked my musket, and they sneaked off again
and pretended that they wanted to see to the fire."
"And what then?" said Pen.
"Well, there wasn't no what then," replied the boy, "and I must have
gone to sleep."
"That was all a dream, I believe, Punch; and I suppose you had another
dream or two about the wolves?"
"Yes, that was a dream. Yes, it must have been. No, it was more a bit
of fancy, for I half-woke up and saw the fire shining on a whole drove
of the savage beasts; but I soon made out that they weren't wolves,
because wolves don't have horns. So it was the goats. I say, look
here. Those two chaps have been milking. They don't mean it for us, do
they?"
The coming of the two goat-herds soon proved that they were hospitably
bent, and the lads agreed between themselves that there were far worse
breakfasts than black-bread cake and warm goat's-milk.
This ended, a difficult task had to be mastered, and that was to try and
obtain information such as would enable the two questioners to learn the
whereabouts of the British troops.
But it proved to be easier than might have been supposed.
To Pen's surprise he learned all he wanted by the use of three
words--_soldado, Frances_, and _Ingles_--with the addition of a good
deal of gesticulation.
For, their breakfast ended, the two lads stood with their hosts, and Pen
patted his own breast and that of his companion, and then touched their
muskets and belts.
"_Soldado_," he said. "_Soldado_."
The fiercer-looking of the two goat-herds caught his meaning directly,
and touched them both in turn upon the breast before repeating the word
_soldado_ (soldier).
"That's all right, Punch," said Pen. "I have made him understand that
we are soldiers."
"Tchah!" said Punch scornfully. "These Spaniels ain't fools. They
knowed that without you telling them."
"Never mind," said Pen. "Let me have my own way, unless you would like
to do it."
"No, thank you," replied the boy, shrinking back, while Pen now turned
and pointed in the direction where he believed the French troops lay.
"_Soldado Frances_?" he said in a questioning tone; and the man nodded
quickly, caught hold of the lad's pointing arm, and pressed it a little
to one side, as if to show him that he had not quite located their
enemies correctly.
"_Soldado Frances_!" he said, showing his white teeth in a smile; and
then his face changed and he drew his knife. "_Soldado Frances_," he
said fiercely.
Pen nodded, and signed to the man to replace his knife.
"So far, so good, Punch," said Pen. "I don't know how we are going to
get on about the next question."
But again the task proved perfectly easy, for, laying his hand upon the
goat-herd's arm, he repeated the words "_Soldado Ingles_."
"_Si_," said the man directly; and he patted the lad on his shoulder.
"_Soldado Ingles_."
"Yes, that's all right," said Pen; "but, now then, look here," And
pointing with his hand to a spot higher up the mountain, he repeated the
two Spanish words with a questioning tone: "_Soldado Ingles_?"
The man looked at him blankly, and Pen pointed in another direction,
repeating his question, and then again away down a far-reaching valley
lying westward of where they stood.
And now the Spaniard's face lit up as if he fully grasped the meaning of
the question.
"_Si, si, si_!" he cried, nodding quickly and pointing right away into
the distant valley. "_Soldado Ingles! Soldado Ingles_!" he cried.
"_Muchos_, _muchos_." And then, thoroughly following the meaning of the
lad's questions, he cried excitedly, as he pointed away down the valley,
where an occasional flash of light suggested the presence of a river,
"_Soldado Ingles, muchos, muchos_." And then he tapped the musket and
belts and repeated his words again and again as he pointed away into the
distance.
"_Bravo amigo_!" cried Pen.--"There, Punch, I don't think there's a
doubt of it. The British forces lie somewhere over there."
"Then if the British forces lie over there," cried Punch, almost
pompously, "that's where the --th lies, for they always go first. Why,
we shall be at home again to-night if we have luck. My word, won't the
chaps give us a hooroar when we march into camp? For, of course, they
think we are dead! You listen what old O'Grady says. You see if he
don't say, `Well done, me boys! Ye are welkim as the flures of May.' I
say, ask him how many miles it is to where our fellows lie."
"No, Punch, you do it."
"No, I ain't going to try."
"Well, look here; these men have been very good to us, and we ought to
show that we are grateful. How is it to be done?"
"I don't know," said Punch. "We ain't got no money, have we?"
"Not a _peseta_, Punch. But I tell you what will please them. You must
give them your knife."
"Give them my knife! Likely! Why, it's the best bit of stuff that was
ever made. I wouldn't take a hundred pounds for it."
"Well, no one will offer it to you, Punch, and you are not asked to sell
it. I ask you to give it to them to pay for what they have done for
us."
"But give my knife! I wouldn't.--Oh, well, all right. You know best,
and if you think we ought to give it to them, there you are.--Good-bye,
old sharper! I am very sorry to part with you all the same."
"Never mind, Punch. I'll give you a better one some day."
"Some day never comes," said the boy grumpily. "But I know you will if
you can."
Pen took the knife, and, eager to get the matter over, he stepped to
where the bigger goat-herd stood watching them, and opened and shut the
big clasp-knife, picked up a piece of wood, and showed how keen the
blade was, the man watching him curiously the while; and then Pen closed
it and placed it in the man's hand.
The Spaniard looked at him curiously for a moment, as if not quite
grasping his meaning.
"_Por usted_," said Pen; and the man nodded and smiled, but shook his
head and gave him the knife back.
"Hooroar! He won't have it," cried Punch.
Pen pressed it upon the man again, and Punch groaned; but the man
rejected it, once more thrusting the knife back with both hands, and
then laughingly pointed down to Pen's boots.
"What does he mean by that, Punch?" cried Pen.
"Haw, haw, haw, haw!" laughed the boy. "He wants you to give him your
boots."
"Nonsense!"
"Here, give us hold of my knife. Hooroar! Sharper, I have got you
again! But he sha'n't have your boots; he shall have mine, and
welcome.--Look here, my cock Spaniel," continued the boy excitedly, as
he pocketed his knife, and dropping himself on the ground he began to
unfasten his boots. But the man shook his head and signed to him that
they would not do, pointing again and again to Pen's. "No, no; you
can't have them. These are better. You can have them and welcome."
But there was a difference of opinion, the Spaniard persisting in his
demand for the pair that had taken his fancy.
"Here, I didn't think he was such a fool," cried Punch. "These are the
best;" and the boy thrust off his boots and held them out to the man,
who still shook his head violently.
"No, no, Punch," said Pen, who had quickly followed his companion's
example; and he drew off his own boots and held them to the man, who
seized them joyfully, showing them with a look of triumph to his fellow.
"There, put yours on again, Punch."
"Not me," said the boy. "Think I'm going to tramp in boots and let you
tramp over the rocks barefoot? Blest if I do; so there! Here, you put
them on."
"Not I," said Pen. "I don't believe they would fit me."
"Yes, they would. I do know that. You are years older than I am, but
my feet's quite as big as yours; so now then. I tried yours when you
was asleep one night, and they fitted me exactly, so of course these
'ere will fit you. Here, catch hold."
Pen turned away so decisively that the boy stood scowling; but a thought
struck him, and with a look of triumph he turned to the younger of the
two goat-herds.
"Here you are, cocky," he cried; and to the man's keen delight Punch
thrust the pair of boots into his hands and gave him a hearty slap on
the back. "It's all right, comrade," cried the boy. "Foots soon gets
hard when you ain't got no shoes. Nature soles and heels them with her
own leather. Lots of our chaps have chucked their boots away, and don't
mind a bit. There was plenty of foots in the world, me boy, before
there was any brogues. I heered O'Grady say that one day to one of our
chaps who had had his boots stolen. I say, what are they going to do?"
This soon became evident, for the elder goat-herd, on seeing that the
lads were about to start in the direction of the valley, pressed upon
Pen a goatskin-bag which he took from a corner of the shelter, its
contents being a couple of bread-cakes, a piece of cheese like dried
brown leather, about a dozen onions, and the horn of salt.
"Come along, Punch," cried Pen cheerily. "They have given us a _quid
pro quo_ at all events."
"Have they?" cried Punch eagerly. "Take care of it then. I have often
longed for a bit when I felt so horribly hungry. Old O'Grady told me
over and over again that a chew of 'bacco is splendid when you ain't got
nothing to eat; so we will just try."
"What are you talking about?" said Pen, as they marched along the
mountain-slope like some one of old who "went delicately," for the way
was stony, and Nature had not had time to commence the promised soleing
and heeling process.
"What was I talking about? You said they'd slipped some 'bacco into the
bag."
"Nonsense!" cried Pen.
"I swear you did. You said quid something."
"I said a few Latin words that sounded like it."
"Well, look ye here, comrade; don't do it again. Latin was all very
well for that old _padre_--good old chap! Bless his bald head! Regular
trump he was! And parlyvooing was all very well for Mr Contrabando;
but plain English for Bob Punchard, sivvy play, as we say in French."