But it proved to be not too difficult, for the little man smiled, nodded his head, and imitated Punch’s suggestive pantomime of eating and drinking. Then, laying one hand upon the boy’s shoulder, he pointed with the other down the slope and tried to guide him in that direction.
“All right,” said Punch, nodding, “I understand. That’s where you live; but not yet. Come this way.” And, catching the little stranger by the arm, Punch pointed towards the forest and tried to draw his companion in that direction.
The plump little man shook his head and suggested that they should go in the other direction.
“Oh, a mercy me!” cried Punch excitedly. “Why, don’t you understand? Look here, sir, I can see what you are. You are a priest. I have seen folks like you more than once. Now, just look here.”
The little man shrugged his shoulders again, shook his head, and then looked compassionately at the boy.
“That’s better,” said Punch. “Now, sir, do try and understand, there’s a good fellow. Just look here!”
The boy tapped him on the shoulder now, and pointed towards the wood.
“Now, look here, sir; it’s like this.”
Punch made-believe to present a musket, after giving a sharp click, click with his tongue in imitation of the cocking of the piece, cried Bang! and then gave a jump, clapped his hand to his right leg, staggered, threw himself down, and then struggled up into a sitting position, to sit up nursing his leg, which he made-believe to bind up with a bandage. Then, holding out his hand to the little priest, he caught hold of him, dragged himself up, but let himself fall back, rolled over, and lay looking at him helplessly.
“Understand that?” he cried, as he sprang to his feet again. “You must be jolly stupid if you can’t. Now then, look here, sir,” he continued, pointing and gesticulating with great energy, “my poor comrade is lying over yonder under a tree, wounded and starving. Come and help me to fetch him, there’s a good old chap.”