“Well, never mind when it was. You can’t deny that you said something like that.”
“Ah, but I wasn’t so tired then. I am all right again now, and so are you, and I want to be at it. Who’s going to be contented shut-up here like a prisoner?”
“Not bad sort of imprisonment, Punch.”
“Oh no, that’s all right enough, comrade; but I want to get back to our chaps. They’ll be crossing us off as killed and wounded, and your people at home will be thinking you are dead. I want to get back to the fighting again. Why, if we go on like this, one of these days they will be sarving out the promotions, and then where do we come in? I say, the captain didn’t come to see us last week. Think he will to-night?”
“I hope so, and bring us news.”
“So do I. But isn’t it about time that Mr Padre came back?”
“Must be very near,” said Pen.
“Quite,” said Punch. “He gets all the fun, going out for his walks, a-roving up and down amongst the trees with his book in his hand. Here, if he don’t volunteer to take us for a walk—something more than a bit of a tramp up and down in the darkness—I shall vote that we run away. There, if you don’t talk to him I shall.”
“Don’t, Punch.”
“Why not?”