“Trout!” he exclaimed. “Something to forage for; and then a fire. Doesn’t look like starving.”
Pen took another good look round, but nothing like a vedette or single sentry was in view; and after a few moments of hesitation he snatched at the opportunity.
Stepping back into the shelter of the woods, he hurriedly stripped, after hanging his rifle from a broken branch, and then dashing out into the sunshine he leaped at once into the beautiful, clear, sparkling water, which flashed up at his plunge. Then striking out, he swam with vigorous strokes right into the depths, and felt that he was being carried steadily downward towards the fall.
This was something to make him put forth his strength; and as he struck out upstream so as to reach the bank again there was something wondrously invigorating in the cool, crisp water which sent thrills of strength through his exhausted frame, making the lad laugh aloud as he fought against the pressure of the water, won, and waded ashore nearly a hundred yards below where he had plunged in.
“What a stream!” he exclaimed as he shook the streaming water from his tense muscles. “I must mind another time. How cold it was! But how hot the sun feels! Double!” he ejaculated, and he started along the bank in a military trot, reached the spot again where he had made his plunge, looked round, indulged in another run in the brilliant sunshine, and, pretty well half-dried by his efforts, stepped back into the wood and rapidly resumed his clothes.
“Why, it has pretty well taken the stiffness out of me,” he muttered, “and I feel ready for anything, only I’m nearly famished. Here, I can’t wait,” he added, as he finished dressing, smartening himself up into soldierly trim, and giving his feet a stamp or two as he resumed his boots. “Now, how about poor Punch? He can’t be worse, for he seemed to have slept so well. It seems hard, but I must wake him up.”
To the lad’s great satisfaction, as he reached the door of the rough cabin, he found that the wounded boy was just unclosing his eyes to look at him wonderingly as if unable to make out what it all meant.
“Gray,” he said faintly.
“Yes. How are you, lad?”
“I—I don’t quite know,” was the reply, given in a faint voice.—“Oh, I recollect now. Yes. There, it stings—my wound.”