didn't want to skulk. I couldn't
leave the poor fellow alone--perhaps to the wolves."

The day went by very slowly. It was hot, and the air felt full of
drowsiness, and the more Pen forced himself to be wakeful the more the
silence seemed to press him down like a weight of sleep to which he was
forced to yield from time to time, only to start awake again with a
guilty look at his companion, followed by a feeling of relief on finding
that Punch's eyes were still closed and not gazing at him mockingly.

Slow as it was, the evening began to approach at last, and with it the
intense longing for the change that would be afforded by the sight of
their visitor.

But the time glided on, and with it came doubts which were growing into
feelings of surety which were clinched by a sudden movement on the part
of the wounded boy, whose long afternoon-sleep was brought to an end
with an impatient ejaculation.

"There! I knew how it would be," he said. "She won't come now."

"Never mind, Punch," said Pen, trying to speak cheerily. "There's a
little more bread, and I will go now and see if I can find the goat, and
try and get some milk."

"Not you," said the boy peevishly. "She will know you are a stranger,
and won't let you try again. I know what them she-billy goats are. I
have watched them over and over again. Leave the bread alone, and let's
go to sleep. We shall want it for breakfast, and water will do. I mean
to have one good long snooze ready for to-morrow, and then I am going to
get up and march."

"Nonsense, Punch," cried Pen. "You can't."

"Can't I?" said the boy mockingly. "I must, and, besides, British
soldiers don't know such a thing as can't."

"Ah!" cried Pen excitedly, as he started up and made for the door, for
there was the rustling sound of feet amongst the bushes; and directly
after, hot and panting with exertion, the peasant-girl appeared at the
opening that was growing dim in the failing light.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN.

"LOOK OUT, COMRADE!"

"Hooray!" cried Punch, wrenching his head round and stretching one hand
towards their visitor, who stepped in, put the basket she carried upon
the bed, and placed her hand upon her side, breathing hard as if she
were in pain.

"Why, you have been running," cried Punch, looking at her reproachfully.
"It was all right on you, and you are a good little lass to come, but
you shouldn't have run so fast. 'Tain't good."

As the girl began to recover her b