“Well, are you satisfied now, Punch, that he isn’t talking about you?”
“Well, you say he ain’t, and that’s enough; but I want to know, all the same, why that there Spanish King don’t come.”
“So does he. You saw how earnest he was yesterday when he came and talked to me, after seeing to my leg, and telling me that he shouldn’t do any more to it.”
“Telled you that, did he? I am glad. And that means it’s nearly well.”
“It means it’s so far well that I am to exercise it all I can.”
“Glad of it. But you ought to have telled me. That is good news. But how are you going to exercise it if we are under orders not to go outside this place for fear of the people seeing us and splitting upon the father?”
“Yes, that is awkward, Punch.”
“Awkward! I call it more than awkward, for we did nearly get the poor old chap into a bad scrape that first night. Tell you what, though. You ask Mr Contrabando to come some night and show us the way.”
“Show us the way where?”
“Anywhere. Up into the passes, as he calls them, right up in the mountains, so that we shall know which way to go when we want to join the Bri’sh army.”