“No, no, Punch,” said Pen, who had quickly followed his companion’s example; and he drew off his own boots and held them to the man, who seized them joyfully, showing them with a look of triumph to his fellow. “There, put yours on again, Punch.”
“Not me,” said the boy. “Think I’m going to tramp in boots and let you tramp over the rocks barefoot? Blest if I do; so there! Here, you put them on.”
“Not I,” said Pen. “I don’t believe they would fit me.”
“Yes, they would. I do know that. You are years older than I am, but my feet’s quite as big as yours; so now then. I tried yours when you was asleep one night, and they fitted me exactly, so of course these ’ere will fit you. Here, catch hold.”
Pen turned away so decisively that the boy stood scowling; but a thought struck him, and with a look of triumph he turned to the younger of the two goat-herds.
“Here you are, cocky,” he cried; and to the man’s keen delight Punch thrust the pair of boots into his hands and gave him a hearty slap on the back. “It’s all right, comrade,” cried the boy. “Foots soon gets hard when you ain’t got no shoes. Nature soles and heels them with her own leather. Lots of our chaps have chucked their boots away, and don’t mind a bit. There was plenty of foots in the world, me boy, before there was any brogues. I heered O’Grady say that one day to one of our chaps who had had his boots stolen. I say, what are they going to do?”
This soon became evident, for the elder goat-herd, on seeing that the lads were about to start in the direction of the valley, pressed upon Pen a goatskin-bag which he took from a corner of the shelter, its contents being a couple of bread-cakes, a piece of cheese like dried brown leather, about a dozen onions, and the horn of salt.
“Come along, Punch,” cried Pen cheerily. “They have given us a quid pro quo at all events.”
“Have they?” cried Punch eagerly. “Take care of it then. I have often longed for a bit when I felt so horribly hungry. Old O’Grady told me over and over again that a chew of ’bacco is splendid when you ain’t got nothing to eat; so we will just try.”
“What are you talking about?” said Pen, as they marched along the mountain-slope like some one of old who “went delicately,” for the way was stony, and Nature had not had time to commence the promised soleing and heeling process.