as if I want to take off my coat and bathe my
arms in the water here, for they ache like hooray."

"Do it, then," said Pen wearily, "and I must do the same to my wound as
well; and then, Punch, there's only one thing I can do more."

"What's that, comrade?"

"Get in the shade under that grey-looking old olive, and have a few
hours' sleep."

"Splendour!" said Punch, taking off his coat. "Hark at the firing!"

"Yes," said Pen wearily, as he followed his comrade's example. "They
may fire, but I am so done up that they can't keep me awake."

The water proved to be a delicious balm for the bruised limbs and the
wound--a balm so restful and calming to the nerves that somehow the sun
had long set, and the evening star was shining brilliantly in the soft
grey evening sky when the two sleepers, who had lain utterly unconscious
for hours, started awake together, wondering what it all meant, and then
prepared themselves to face the darkness of the coming night, not
knowing what fate might bring; but Pen felt a strange chill run through
his breast with a shiver as Punch exclaimed in a low, warning whisper,
"I say, comrade, hear that? Wolves?"

CHAPTER THIRTY NINE.

STRUNG-UP.

"Or dogs," said Pen angrily. "What a fellow you are, Punch! Don't you
think we had enough to make us low-spirited and miserable without you
imagining that the first howl you hear comes from one of those horrible
brutes?"

"It's all very well," said Punch with a shudder. "I have heard dogs
enough in my time. Why, I used to be once close to the kennel where
they kept the foxhounds, and they used to set-to and sing sometimes all
at once. Then I have heard shut-up dogs howl all night, and other sorts
begin to howl when it was moonlight; but I never heard a dog make a
noise like that. I am sure it's wolves."

"Well, perhaps you are right, Punch; but I suppose they never attack
people except in the winter-time when they are starving and the ground's
covered with snow; and this is summer, and they have no reason for
coming down from the mountains."

"Oh, I say," exclaimed the boy, "haven't they just!"

"Will you hold your tongue, Punch!" cried Pen angrily. "This is a nice
way to prepare ourselves for a tramp over the mountains, isn't it?"

"Are we going to tramp over the mountains in the night?" said the boy
rather dolefully.

"Yes, and be glad of the opportunity to get farther away from the French
before morning."

"But won't it