"Why, he isn't a gentleman, after all," muttered the boy. "He's gone. It was just in there that I told him to crawl, and--no, it was farther on, by that next beech--no--oh, I say, how much alike all these places are! I believe I must have passed it." He stood still and whistled. There was no reply. Then he whistled again, and, after glancing about him, hazarded a call. "Hi! Hullo! Where are you?--It's all right; no soldiers near." There was a faint rustling then amongst the bracken, and the stranger's head was slowly raised some thirty yards away. Waller hurried to him. "What made you change your place?" he said, as he came up. "Change my place? I have not moved." "Never mind. There, sit down now. Here's something to take off the hunger. There, if I didn't forget a knife! Never mind; mine will do. It's quite clean. That's right. Nobody's likely to come by here. Take a good drink of this first." He placed the jug in the lad's hand as he seated himself between the great buttress-like roots of a huge beech: and after that long, deep drink there was an interval of time during which Waller watched, with a feeling of wonder, the ravenous manner in which his new friend--or enemy--partook of food. "I am ashamed," he muttered; "I am ashamed. But eat some, too." "Oh, no; go on," said Waller. "I can't eat another mouthful unless you join." "Oh, very well; there is plenty," said Waller, "and seeing you eat has made me hungry, too." No more words were spoken for a time, and at last, with the hunger of both pretty well assuaged, Waller began to note the humour of the position, and in a half-bantering way exclaimed: "Here, I say, you ought to leave a snack for the soldiers when they come." The lad's hand dropped, and he turned, with a wild look, to fix his eyes on Waller's. "Ah," he said, the next moment, with his face softening, "you are laughing at me." "Well, suppose I am. It's because I am pleased to see you better now." "Better! Yes. I think you have saved my life," said the lad softly. "I say, I wish we could be friends--but no; impossible. You could not be, with one like me." "I don't see why not," said Waller. "We are good enough friends now. There, I am sorry I knocked you about so much and treated you as I did. I didn't know you were so weak and hungry. Will you shake hands?" "Will I shake hands?" cried the lad, with all the effusion of a young Frenchman, and catching the one which Waller stretched out, he held it tightly for a few moments between his own, holding it until Waller drew it away. "There," he said, "I must be going back now. There isn't much left, but I must have the empty basket. You had better lie down here and have a good rest, and I will come back to you in the evening and see if I can't think out some way of helping you to get down to Lymington."