“Why, didn’t you tell them we was English?”
“Of course.”
“And at the same time,” said Punch, “put a couple of French muskets down before them, and us with French belts and cartridge-boxes on us all the time?”
“Oh, they wouldn’t have noticed that.”
“I don’t know,” said Punch. “These are rough-looking chaps, but they are not fools; and the French have knocked them about so that they hate them and feel ready to give them the knife at the slightest chance.”
“Well, there’s no harm in being particular, Punch; but I don’t think they will doubt us.”
“Well, I don’t doubt them,” said Punch. “What a jolly supper! I feel just like a new man. But won’t it be a pity to leave here and go on the march again? You know, I can’t help it, comrade; I shall begin thinking about the wolves again as soon as we start off into the darkness. Hadn’t we better lie down here and go to sleep till daylight?”
“I don’t know,” said Pen thoughtfully. “These men have been very friendly to us, but we are quite strangers, and if they doubt our being what we said ours would be a very awkward position if we went off to sleep. Could you go off to sleep and trust them?”
“Deal sooner trust them than the wolves, comrade,” said Punch, yawning violently, an act which was so infectious that it made his companion yawn too.
“How tiresome!” he exclaimed, “You make me sleepy, and if we don’t jump up and start at once we shall never get off.”