ollected himself, and carried it to the priest's pallet,
where he went down on his knees and held it to Pen's lips, so that the
poor fellow, who was burning with feverish pain, was able to drink long
and deeply.

Pen was still drinking when Punch started and spilt a few drops of the
water as he turned hastily to look up at their host, who had laid a soft
brown hand upon his head, and was looking down at him with a pleasant
smile.

"What did he do that for, comrade?"

"I don't know," said Pen, drawing a deep breath, as he withdrew his lips
from the water. "Yes, I do," he added quickly. "He meant that he was
pleased because you let me drink first."

"Course I did. I don't see anything to be pleased about in that. But
have a drop more, comrade. Quick, look sharp, before I go mad and
snatches it away from you, for I never felt like this before."

"Go on then now, Punch."

"But--"

"Go on then now; I can wait."

"Ah, then!" ejaculated the boy, with a deep sigh that was almost a
groan; and with trembling hands he held the jar to his lips and drank,
and recovered his breath and drank again as if it was impossible to
satisfy his burning thirst.

Then recovering himself, he held the jar against Pen's lips.

"Talk about wine," he said; "why, it ain't in it! I don't wonder that
he looks so fat and happy, though he is dressed up like an old
scarecrow. Fancy living here with a pump of water like this close at
hand!--Had enough now?--That's right. Now you go on breaking off bits
of that bread and dipping it in the water while I cuts up one of these."

He took his knife from his pocket and began to peel one of the onions,
when their host placed the little vessel of salt close to his hand.

"Thank you, sir," cried Punch. "You are a real gentleman."

The priest smiled and nodded, and watched the two lads as Pen took an
earthenware bowl that their host placed close to his hand after
half-filling it with water so that he could steep the bread, while Punch
deftly peeled one of the onions, not scrupling about littering the
floor, and then proceeded to quarter it and then divide the segments
again, dipping one in the salt and placing it between his wounded
companion's lips.

"Good! good!" said the priest again, smiling with satisfaction, and
laying his hand once more upon Punch's head. "_Bonum! bonum_!"

"Bone 'em!" said Punch. "Why, he give it to me!"

"He means it was good, Punch," said Pen, smiling.

"Good