Then all was misty again. The river was running onward with a swift rush towards its mouth, and he was conscious that he was safe upon the bank from which he had started. Then he knew that he must have swooned away, and lay, for how long he could not tell; but the next thing that he remembered clearly was that he opened his eyes to see Punch bending over him and rocking him to and fro according to the drill instructions they had both learned as to how to deal with a fellow-soldier who has been half-drowned.
“Oh, Punch,” he cried, in a voice that sounded to him like a hoarse whisper, “I thought you were dead!”
The boy was blubbering as if his heart would break, and it was some moments before he half-sobbed and half-whimpered out, “Why, you couldn’t have done that, because it’s what I was thinking about you. But, I say, comrade, you are all right, aren’t you?”
“I—I suppose so,” gasped Pen.
“Oh, don’t talk like that,” sobbed the boy.
“This ’ere’s the worst of all. Do say as you are coming round. Why, you must be, or else you couldn’t talk. But, I say, did you save me, or did I save you? Blest if I know! And here we are on the wrong side after all! What’s to be done now?”
“Wring our clothes, I suppose, Punch,” said Pen wearily, “or lie down and rest without.”
“Well, I feel as if I should like to do that,” said Punch. “This ’ere sand is hot and dry enough to make us steam. I say, comrade,” he continued, wiping his eyes and speaking in a piteous tone, “don’t you take no notice of me and the water squeezing out of my eyes. I am so full of it that it’s running out. But we are all right, comrade. I was beginning to think you had gone and left me all alone. But I say, this ’ere’s a nice place, this Spain! Here, what’s the matter with you?” continued Punch excitedly. “Don’t turn like that, choking and pynting. Oh, this ’ere’s worse still! He’s in a blessed fit!”
He had seized Pen by the shoulders now, and began shaking him violently, till Pen began to struggle with him, forced him aside, and then pointing across the river, he gasped out, “Cavalry! Look, look!”
The boy swung himself round, one hand felt for his musket, the other at his belt, where the bayonet should have been, for the word cavalry suggested to him preparations for receiving a charge.