t on bravely.

"I never saw such a country!" he muttered. "There ought to be plenty of
towns and villages and people, but it's all desert and stones and
scrubby trees. Any one would think that you couldn't walk anywhere
without finding something to eat, and there's nothing but the goats and
pigs, and as soon as they catch sight of you away they go."

Over and over again he climbed hillsides to reach spots where he could
look down, in the full expectation of seeing some village or cluster of
huts. But it was all the same, there was nothing to be seen; till,
growing alarmed lest he should find that he had lost touch with his
landmarks, he began to retrace his steps in utter despair, but only to
drop down on his knees at last and bury his face in his hands, to give
way to the emotion that for a few moments he could not master.

"There," he muttered, recovering himself, "I could not help it, but
there was no one to see. Just like a silly great gal. It is being
hungry, I suppose, and weak with my wound; and, my word, it does sting!
But there's some one at last!"

The boy looked sharply round.

"Why, you idgit!" he gasped, "you've lost him again. No, it's all
right," he cried, and he started off at a trot in the direction of a
short, plump-looking figure in rusty black, who, bent of head and book
in hand, was slowly descending a slope away to his right.

CHAPTER TWENTY THREE.

THE USE OF LATIN.

"There! Ahoy!" shouted Punch, and the black figure slowly raised his
head and began to look round till he was gazing in quite the opposite
direction to where the boy was hurrying towards him, and Punch had a
full view of the stranger's back and a ruddy-brown roll of fat flesh
which seemed to be supporting a curious old hat, looking like a rusty
old stove-pipe, perched horizontally upon the wearer's head.

"Hi! Not that way! Look this!" cried Punch as he closed up. "Here, I
say, where's the nearest village?"

The stove-pipe turned slowly round, and Punch found himself face to face
with a plump-looking little man who slowly closed the book he carried
and tucked it inside his shabby gown.

"Morning!" said Punch.

The little man bowed slowly and with some show of dignity, and then
gazed sternly in the boy's face and waited.

"I said good-morning, sir," said the boy; and then to himself, "what a
rum-looking little chap!--Can you tell me--"

Punch got no further, for the little stranger shook his head, frowned