course we can't go to sleep. Well, we
might have a walk up and down outside in the dark. No one could see us,
and it would make us sleepy again."

"Very well; only we mustn't go out of sight of the door, in case the
captain should come."

"Yah! He won't come," grumbled Punch; and he descended to the lower
room, scraped the faintly glowing wood-ashes together, and then went to
the door, peered out, and listened, and afterwards, followed by his
comrade, he began to tramp up and down the shelf-like ledge upon which
the priest's cottage was built.

It was very dark, for the sky was so overcast that not a star was
visible; and, as if feeling depressed by the silence, neither was
disposed for talk, and the consequence was that at the end of about half
an hour Pen caught his companion by the arm and stopped short. His
reason was plain enough, for Punch uttered a faint "Hist!" and led the
way to the cottage door, where they both stopped and listened to a sound
which had grown plainer--that of steps coming swiftly towards them.
They hardly had time to softly close the door and climb up to the loft
before the door was thrown open, there was a quick step below, and a
soft whistle which they well knew now was uttered at the foot of the
steps.

Pen replied in the way he had learned, and directly after came the
question, "Where's the father?"

"He went out an hour ago," Pen replied.

"Which way?"

"By the upper pass," replied Pen.

There was a sharp ejaculation, expressive of impatience, the steps
crossed the room again, the door creaked as it was shut to, and then the
steps died away.

"There, Punch, you see I was right," said Pen.

"Who's to see anybody's right when it's as black as your hat?" replied
the boy impatiently.

"Well, I think it's right if you don't. What shall we do--go to sleep
now?"

"Go to sleep?" growled the boy irritably. "Go to wake you mean! I tell
you what I am just fit for."

"Well, what?" said Pen good-humouredly.

"Sentry-go. No fear of anybody catching me asleep who came on his
rounds. I used to think that was the very worst part of being a
soldier, but I could just enjoy it now. 'Tis miserable work, though,
isn't it?"

"No," replied Pen thoughtfully.

"But you get very sleepy over it, don't you?"

"I never did," said Pen gravely, as they both settled themselves upon
the floor of the loft, and the bundles of straw and dried-fern litter
which the priest had added for their