“No, no; that’s getting all right. But that old chap seems to have shut us up here and gone. Didn’t happen to see, did you, where he put the bread and onions? I am quite hollow inside.”
“No, Punch. I fell asleep, and I can’t recollect how or when.”
“That’s a pity, ’cause I know we should be welcome, and I can’t make out where he put the forage when he cleared away.”
It was the sunrise of a bright morning, and the sounds of bleating goats came plainly to the listeners’ ears as the nimble animals were making their way up the valley-side to their pasture.
Then all at once came the sharp creak of a board, and Punch dashed at his musket, caught it up, cocked it, and stood ready to use it in defence of his companion.
There was another creak or two, evidently from overhead, and as Punch stood there on the alert, his brows knit and teeth clenched, Pen softly stole his hand in the direction of his own musket and raised himself up on the bed ready to help.
Again there came a creak or two, a rustling in the corner of the room as of some one descending from above, and, though invisible, the muzzles of the two pieces were slowly lowered in the direction of the noise, till with a crack the door in the corner was thrust inward and the little old priest stood looking wonderingly from one to the other as he raised his hand.
It was as if this were a signal to disarm, when the two muskets were hurriedly replaced, and Punch advanced towards the corner of the room, offering to shake hands.
The priest smiled, took the boy’s fingers, and then, thrusting to the door, he crossed to the bed, felt Pen’s forehead, and afterwards pointed to the wounded leg.
The next minute he went to the door, removed the great bar, and admitted the bright light and fresh air of the morning in company with the louder bleating of the goats, which animals evidently came trotting up to the old man as he stepped back to look searchingly round. Then, after speaking kindly to them, he drove them away, returned into the room directly after with water, and proceeded to busily attend to Pen’s wound.