up and start at once we shall never get off."

"Well then, don't," said Punch appealingly. "Let's risk it, comrade.
These two wouldn't be such brutes as to use their knives on us when we
were asleep. Look here! What do they mean now?"

For the two goat-herds came and patted them on the shoulders and signed
to them to get up and follow.

"Why, they want us to go along with them, comrade," said the boy,
picking up the two muskets.

"Here, ketch hold, in case they mean mischief. Why, they don't want to
take us into the dark so that the goats shouldn't see the murder, do
they?"

"I am going to do what you suggested, Punch," replied Pen, "risk it,"
and he followed their two hosts to the rough-looking stone shelter which
kept off the wind and reflected the warmth of the fire.

Here they drew out a couple of tightly rolled-up skin-rugs, and made
signs that the lads should take them. No words were spoken, the men's
intention was plainly enough expressed; and a very short time afterwards
each lad was lying down in the angle of the rough wall, snugly rolled in
his skin-rug, with a French musket for companion; and to both it seemed
as if only a few minutes had elapsed before they were gazing across a
beautiful valley where mists were rising, wreath after wreath of
half-transparent vapour, shot with many colours by the rays of the
rising sun.

CHAPTER FORTY ONE.

BOOTS OR BOOTY?

"There, Punch," said Pen, rising; "you didn't dream, did you, that our
friends crept up with their knives in the night to make an end of you?"

"No," cried the boy excitedly, as he turned to gaze after the men, who
were some little distance away amongst the goats, "I didn't dream it.
It was real. First one of them and then the other did come with his
knife in his hand; but I cocked my musket, and they sneaked off again
and pretended that they wanted to see to the fire."

"And what then?" said Pen.

"Well, there wasn't no what then," replied the boy, "and I must have
gone to sleep."

"That was all a dream, I believe, Punch; and I suppose you had another
dream or two about the wolves?"

"Yes, that was a dream. Yes, it must have been. No, it was more a bit
of fancy, for I half-woke up and saw the fire shining on a whole drove
of the savage beasts; but I soon made out that they weren't wolves,
because wolves don't have horns. So it was the goats. I say, look
here. Those two chaps have been milking. They don't mean it for us,