“How?” said Pen. “I have been trying again and again to get my arms loose, and I am growing more helpless than ever.”
Punch gave a low grunt, raised his head a little, and tried to look round and pierce the darkness, seeing very little though but the fact that they were surrounded by wounded men, for the most part asleep, though here and there was one who kept trying to move himself into an easier position, but only to utter a low moan and relapse into a state of semi-insensibility.
About a dozen paces away, though, he could just make out one of the sentries leaning upon his musket and with his back to them. Satisfied with his scrutiny, Punch shifted his position a little, drawing himself into a position where he could get his lips close to his companion’s ear.
“Look here,” he said, “can you bite?”
“Bite! Nonsense! Who could think of eating now?”
“Tchah!” whispered Punch, “who wants to eat? I have been wiggling myself about quietly ever since they set me down, and I have got my hands a bit loose. Now, I am just going to squirm myself a bit farther and turn over when I have got my hands about opposite your mouth, and I want you to set-to with your teeth and try hard to draw the tongue of the strap out of the buckle, for it’s so loose now that I think you could do it.”
“Ah! I’ll try, Punch,” whispered Pen.
“Then if you try,” said the boy, “you’ll do it. I know what you are.”
“Don’t talk, then,” replied Pen excitedly, “but turn over at once. Why didn’t you think of this before? We might have tried at once, and had a better chance, for it will be light before long.”
“Didn’t think of it. My arms hurt so that they made me stupid.”