!Tention Part 29

"What is it, then? What are you thinking about?"

"Thinking about you being so grumpy."

"Grumpy! Well, isn't it enough to make a fellow feel low-spirited when he has been ill for weeks, wandering about here on these mountain-sides, hunted as if we were wild beasts, almost starving, and afraid to go near any of the people?"

"No," replied Punch with quite a snarl. "If you had had a bullet in your back like I did there's something to grumble about. I don't believe you ever knew how it hurt."

"Oh yes, I did, Punch," said Pen quietly, "for many a time I have felt for you when I have seen you wincing and your face twitching with pain."

"Of course you did. I know. You couldn't have been nicer than you were. But what have you got to grumble about now you're better?"

"Our bad luck in not getting back to some of our people."

"Well, I should like that too, only I don't much mind. You see, I can't help feeling as jolly as a sand-boy."

"I don't know that sand-boys have anything much to be jolly about, Punch," said Pen, brightening up.

"More do I--but it's what people say," said Punch; "only, I do feel jolly. To be out here in the sunshine--and the moonshine, too, of a night--and having a sort of feeling that I can sit down now without my back aching and smarting, and feeling that I want to run and jump and shout. You know what it is to feel better, now, as well as I do. This ain't home, of course; but everything looks wonderful nice, and every morning I wake up it all seems to me as if I was having a regular long holiday. I say, do say you are enjoying yourself too."

"I can't, Punch. There are too many drawbacks."

"Oh, never mind them."

"But I can't help it. You know I have been dreadfully weak."

"But you shouldn't worry about that. I don't mind a bit now you are getting well."

"What, not when we are faint with hunger?"

"No, not a bit. It makes me laugh. It seems such a jolly game to think we have got to hunt for our victuals. Oh, I think we are having a regular fine time. It's a splendid place! Come on."

"No, no; we had better rest a little more."

"Not me! Let's get some chestnuts. Ain't it a shame to grumble when you get plenty of them as you can eat raw or make a fire and roast them?

Starve, indeed! Then look at the grapes we have had; and you never know what we shall find next. Why, it was only yesterday that woman gave us some bread, and pointed to the onions, and told us to take more; leastways she jabbered and kept on pointing again. Of course, we haven't done as well as we did in the hut, when the girl brought us bread and cheese and milk; but I couldn't enjoy it then with all that stinging in my back. And everything's good now except when you look so grumpy."

"Well, Punch, most of my grumpiness has been on your account, and I will cheer up now. If I could only meet some one to talk to and understand us, so that we could find out where our people are, I wouldn't care."

"Well, never mind all that, and don't care. I don't. Here we are having a big holiday in the country. We have got away from the French, and we are not prisoners. I am all alive and kicking again, and I feel more than ever that I don't care for anything now you are getting more and more well. There's only one thing as would make me as grumpy as you are."

"What's that, Punch?"

"To feel that my wound was getting bad again. I say, you don't think it will, do you?"

"No; why should I? It's all healing up beautifully."

"Then I don't care for anything," cried the boy joyously. "Yes, I do.

I feel horrid wild sometimes to think they took away my bugle; leastways, I suppose they did. I never saw it no more; and it don't seem natural not to have that to polish up. I have got a musket, though; and, I say, why don't we have a day's shooting, and knock over a kid or a pig?"

"Because it would be somebody's kid or pig, and we should be hunted down worse than ever, for, instead of the French being after us for escaped prisoners, we should rouse the people against us for killing their property."

"Yes, that would be bad," said Punch; "but it would only be because we are hungry."

"Yes, but the people wouldn't study that."

"Think they would knife us for it?" said the boy thoughtfully.

"I hope not; but they would treat us as enemies, and it would go bad with us, I feel sure."

"Well, we are rested now," said Punch. "Let's get on again a bit."

"Which way shall we go?" said Pen.

"I dunno; anywhere so's not to run against the French. I have had enough of them. Let's chance it."

Pen laughed merrily, his comrade's easy-going, reckless way having its humorous side, and cheering him up at a time when their helpless condition made him ready to despair.

"Well," he said, "if we are to chance it, Punch, let's get out of this wood and try to go downhill."

"What for?"

"Easier travelling," said Pen. "We may reach another pleasant valley, and find a village where the people will let us beg some bread and fruit."

"Yes, of course," said Punch, frowning; "but it don't seem nice-- begging."

"Well, we have no money to buy. What are we to do?"

"Grab," said Punch laconically.

"What--steal?" cried Pen.

"Steal! Gammon! Aren't we soldiers? Soldiers forage. 'Tain't stealing. We must live in an enemy's country."

"But the Spaniards are not our enemies."

"There, now you are harguing, and I hate to hargue when you are hungry.

What I say is, we are soldiers and in a strange country, and that we must take what we want. It's only foraging; so come on."

"Come along then, Punch," said Pen good-humouredly. "But you are spoiling my morals, and--"

"Pst!" whispered Punch. "Lie down."

He set the example, throwing himself p.r.o.ne amongst the rough growth that sprang up along the mountain-slope; and Pen followed his example.

"What can you see?" he whispered, as he crept closer to his comrade's side, noting the while that as he lay upon his chest the boy had made ready his musket and prepared to take aim. "You had better not shoot."

"Then tell them that too," whispered Punch.

"Them! Who?"