“I don’t think they will be sentries right up here,” said Pen.
“What then?”
“Shepherds,” replied Pen abruptly.
He was about to add, “to keep off the wolves,” but he checked himself in time, as he half-laughed and thought that it would scare his companion again.
Punch remained silent and marched on, keeping step, till they were getting very close to a tiny scrap of a smouldering fire; and then there was a rush of feet as if about a couple of dozen goats had been startled, to spring up and scatter away, with their horny hoofs pattering amongst the stones; and at the same moment the two lads became aware of the fact that after their habit the sturdy little animals had been sleeping around a couple of fierce-looking, goatskin-clothed, half-savage Spanish goat-herds, one of whom kicked at the fire, making it burst into a temporary blaze which lit up their swarthy features and flashed in their eyes, and, what was more startling still, on the blades of the two long knives which they snatched from their belts.
“Amigos, amigos!” cried Pen, and he grounded arms, Punch following his example.
“Amigos! No, Francéses,” shouted one of the men, as the fire burnt up more brightly; and he pointed at Pen’s musket.
“No,” cried Pen, “Ingléses.” And laying down his piece near the fire, he coolly seated himself and began to warm his hands. “Come on, Punch,” he said, “sit down; and give me your haversack.”
The boy obeyed, and as the two men looked at them doubtingly Pen took the haversack, held it out, thrust his hand within two or three times, and shook his head before pointing to his lips and making signs as if he wanted to eat.
“El pano, agua,” he said.