Hours passed, and the silence endured. From time to time Dexter was vaguely aware of a fretful stirring and moaning in the darkness where the bunk stood, but such sounds were self-explanatory and gave him no reason to awaken. The fire burned to dead ashes, and the early morning chill crept through the room, but he only drew his blanket tighter. But sometime near the approach of dawn, at the darkest, stillest hour of ebbing night-tide, a queer, faint buzzing noise broke suddenly upon his inner consciousness.
In a flash he roused himself, trying to see through the gloom, listening for some repetition of the sound. He had almost persuaded himself that imagination had tricked him, and was on the point of reaching again for the blanket flap, when, all at once, a muffled voice began to speak from the bunk. The tones were repressed and rather unsteady, but the words were intelligible.
"I'm all right. Lots better. Policeman fixed me up." It was the boy, apparently talking to himself in the darkness.
The tenseness of Dexter's attitude promptly relaxed. His patient no doubt was feverish, a little delirious—maundering in his sleep. Nevertheless the corporal waited, mildly curious to know what else might be said.
He was not kept long in suspense. "You were?" exclaimed the voice, as though questioning a fanciful person. "And got away? That's good, anyhow."
There followed another short silence, and then the speaker in the bunk was heard again. "No!" This time the tone seemed to carry a sharp warning. "Don't come here. Go to the Saddle Notch. Somebody'll meet you there. Understand?"
As he listened Dexter stiffened to keen alertness. This was not like the raving of a dreaming man. The words were beginning to make sense. And there were definite pauses between sentences, as though the speaker were waiting for some one else to reply. As the corporal leaned forward, trying to see in the darkness, he was grimly reminded of last night's strange events—of another lonely cabin, of another voice heard in seeming conversation with an unidentified some one who answered mysteriously from somewhere else.
He waited, breathless, and the boy spoke once more. "See you later," he declared. "Good luck." And then he ended with a farewell utterance that brought Dexter to his feet in gasping wonderment. "Good-by, Alison!" he said.