He stood still and whistled. There was no reply. Then he whistled again, and, after glancing about him, hazarded a call.
“Hi! Hullo! Where are you?—It’s all right; no soldiers near.”
There was a faint rustling then amongst the bracken, and the stranger’s head was slowly raised some thirty yards away.
Waller hurried to him.
“What made you change your place?” he said, as he came up.
“Change my place? I have not moved.”
“Never mind. There, sit down now. Here’s something to take off the hunger. There, if I didn’t forget a knife! Never mind; mine will do. It’s quite clean. That’s right. Nobody’s likely to come by here. Take a good drink of this first.”
He placed the jug in the lad’s hand as he seated himself between the great buttress-like roots of a huge beech: and after that long, deep drink there was an interval of time during which Waller watched, with a feeling of wonder, the ravenous manner in which his new friend—or enemy—partook of food.
“I am ashamed,” he muttered; “I am ashamed. But eat some, too.”
“Oh, no; go on,” said Waller.