faintly, "I never thought that."

"Look here," said Punch, "say something to him in French. Tell him I
want to get you to a cottage, and say we are starving."

Pen obeyed, and faintly muttered a few words in French; but the priest
shook his head.

"_Frances_?" he said.

"No, no," replied Pen. "_Ingles_."

"Ah, _Ingles_!" said the priest, smiling; and he went down on one knee
to softly touch the rough bandage that was about the wounded leg.

Then, to the surprise of both boys, he carefully raised Pen into a
sitting position, signed to Punch to hold him up, and then taking off
his curiously fashioned hat and hanging it upon a broken branch of the
tree, the boys saw that Nature had furnished him with the tonsure of the
priest without the barber's aid, and they had the opportunity now of
seeing that it was a pleasantly wrinkled rosy face, with a pair of
good-humoured-looking eyes that gazed up in theirs.

"What's he going to do?" said Punch in a whisper.

He comprehended the next minute, and eagerly lent his aid, for the
little priest, twisting up his gown and securing it round his waist,
began to prove himself a worthy descendant of the Good Samaritan, though
wanting in the ability to set the wounded traveller upon his own ass.

Going down, though, upon one knee, he took hold of first one hand and
then the other, and, with Punch's assistance to his own natural
strength, he got Pen upon his back, hitching him up a little, and then a
little more, till he had drawn the wounded lad's arms across his chest.

This done, he knelt there on one knee, panting, before drawing a deep
breath prior to rising with his burden. Then he tried to stand up, but
without success.

He waited, then tried again; but once more without success, for the
weight was greater than he had anticipated.

"Can't you manage it, sir?" said Punch. "Here, let me try."

The little priest shook his head, but released one of Pen's hands and
caught hold of Punch by the shoulder.

"Yes, I know, sir," cried Punch, and after waiting till their new friend
was ready, the boy brought his strength to bear as well, and the little
priest stood up, gave his load a hitch or two to balance it well upon
his shoulders, and then looked sharply at Punch and then at his hat.

"Carry your hat, sir?" cried Punch excitedly, "of course I will. It
will be all right."

The priest shook his head.

"What? Oh, you mean stick it on, sir? All right, sir; I understand