Then the boy seemed to leave off in a tiff and tell him that he might sleep for a month for aught he cared, and that he would not try to waken him any more.
Then somehow, as the pain ceased, he did not go to sleep, but went right off up the mountain-side in the darkness, guiding the King and his followers into a place of safety; still it was not so safe but that he could hear the French coming and firing at them now and then.
However, he went on and on, feeling puzzled all the time that he should know the way through the mountains so well, and he took the King to rest under the great chestnut-tree, and then on again to where the French were firing, and one of them brought him down with the bullet that ploughed his leg.
But that did not seem to matter, for, as if he knew every bit of the country by heart, he led the King to the goat-herd’s cottage, and advised him to lie down and have a good rest on the rough bed, because the peasant-girl would be there before long with a basket of food.
The King said that he did not care to sleep because he was so dreadfully thirsty, and what he wanted was a bowl of goat’s-milk. Then somehow he went to where the goat was waiting to be milked, and for a long time the milk would not come, but when it did and he was trying to fill the little wooden seau it was all full of beautiful cold water from the foot of the falls where the trout were rushing about.
Then somehow Punch kept on sawing his ramrod to and fro along the wound in his leg, and the more he tried to catch hold of the iron rod the more Punch kept on snatching it away; and they were going through the darkness again, with the King and his followers close behind, on the way to safety; while Pen felt that he was quite happy now, because he had saved the King, who was so pleased that he made him Sir Arthur Wellesley and gave him command of the British army.
Whereupon Punch exclaimed, “I never saw such a fellow as you are to sleep! Do wake up. Here’s Mr Contrabando waiting to speak to you, and he looks as if he wanted to go away.”
“Punch!” exclaimed Pen, starting up.
“Punch it is. Are you awake now?”
“Awake? Yes. Have I been dreaming?”