ch, "and getting worse; but I suppose I
can't do anything more."

"No; you can do no more, so don't waste your chance of escape. It will
be horrible for you to be made prisoner again, so off with you while the
coast's clear. Do you hear me?"

"Hear you! Yes, you needn't shout and tell the Johnnies that we are
hiding here."

"No, no, of course not; it was very foolish, but the pain of the wound
and your obstinacy made me excited. Now then, shake hands, and, there's
a good fellow, go."

"Likely!" said Punch, wiping the pain-drops from Pen's face.

"What do you mean by that?" said Pen angrily.

"What do I mean by what? You are a bit cracked like, or else you
wouldn't talk like this."

"Not tell you to run while there's a chance?"

"Not tell me to run like this when there's a chance!" replied Punch.
"Jigger the chance! So you just hold your tongue and lie quiet.
Sha'n't go! There."

"But, Punch, don't be foolish, there's a good fellow."

"No, I won't; and don't you be foolish. Pst! Hear that? They are
coming back."

"There's time still," said Pen, lowering his voice.

"Oh, is there? You just look here. Here they are, coming nearer and
nearer. Do you want them to come and take us both?"

"No, no, no," whispered Pen.

"Then just you hold your tongue," said Punch, nestling down close to his
comrade's side, for the rustle and tramp of many feet began to grow
nearer again; and as Punch lay upon his back with his eyes turned in the
direction of the approaching sound he soon after caught a glimpse or two
of sunlight flashed from the barrels of muskets far down the forest
aisles, as their bearers seemed to be coming right for where they lay.

"Look here," said Punch softly, "they look as if they are coming
straight here; but there's a chance for us yet, so let's take it, and if
they don't find us--Mind, I didn't want you to be hit; but as you are,
and I suppose was to be, I am jolly glad of it, for it gives a fellow a
chance. And what's the good of me talking?" said the boy to himself
now. "He's gone right off, swoonded, as they call it. Poor old chap!
It does seem queer. But it might have been worse, as I said before.
Wanted me to run away, did you? Likely, wasn't it? Why, if I had run
it would have served me jolly well right if somebody had shot me down
again. Not likely, comrade! I mayn't be a man, but my father was a
British soldier, and that's what's the matter with me."

Punch lay tal