The men turned to gaze into each other’s eyes as if in doubt, and then began slowly to thrust their long, sharp knives into their belts; and it proved directly afterwards that Pen’s pantomime had been sufficiently good, for one of them strode away into the darkness, where the lads could make out a sort of wind-shade of piled-up stones, from which he returned directly afterwards with what proved to be a goatskin-bag, which he carried to his companion, and then went off again, to return from somewhere behind the stones, carrying a peculiar-looking earthen jar, which proved to be filled with water.
Just then Punch drew the two muskets a little farther from the fire, and to Pen’s surprise took off his jacket and carefully covered their locks.
“Afraid of the damp,” muttered Pen to himself; and then he smiled up in the face of the fiercer-looking of the two goat-herds as the man placed a cake of coarse-looking bread in his hands and afterwards turned out from the bag a couple of large onions, to which he added a small bullock’s horn whose opening was stopped with a ball of goatskin.
“Bueno, bueno!” said Pen, taking the food which was offered to him with the grave courtesy of a gentleman; and, not to be outdone, he took the hand that gave and lightly raised it to his lips. The act of courtesy seemed to melt all chilling reserve, and the two men hurried to throw some heather-like twigs upon the fire, which began to burn up brightly, emitting a pleasant aromatic smoke. Then, seating themselves, the more fierce-looking of the pair pointed to the bread and held up the jar so that they could drink.
“Amigos, amigos!” he said softly; and he took the jar in turn, drank to the lads, and gravely set it down between them; and then as Pen broke bread Punch started violently, for each of the men drew out his knife, and the boy’s hand was stretched out towards the muskets, but withdrawn directly as he realised the meaning of the unsheathed knives, each of the goat-herds snatching up one of the onions and beginning to peel it for the guests, before hastening to stick the point of his knife into the vegetable and hand both to their visitors.
“They scared me,” said Punch. “I say, don’t the onions smell good! Want a bit of salt, though.”
He had hardly said the word before the taller of the two men caught up the horn, drew out the ball-like wad which closed it up, and revealed within a reddish-looking powder which glistened in the light of the fire and proved to be rock-salt.
It was a very rough and humble meal, but Punch expressed his companion’s feelings when he said it was ’lishus.
“Worth coming for—eh, Punch?” said Pen, “and risking the wolves.”
“Here, I say, drop that, comrade. Don’t be hard on a fellow. One can’t help having one’s feelings. But I say, you looked half-scared too when these two Spaniards whipped out their knives.”