Tom’s brain was getting weary with so much hard thinking. He felt as if he was back in Elmwood Hall, and had to puzzle over some hard geometry proposition.
“I’m going to bed,” he decided at length. “Maybe in the morning I’ll be fresher and can think better.”
He collected a quantity of dry wood, and had it in readiness to throw on the embers of the campfire. He also took a lantern with him inside the sleeping tent, turning the wick low, and he had a gun in readiness.
“I’m not going to be taken by surprise if I can help it,” he mused. “That’s how they must have gotten Jack and the others into their power. I’ll fight if they try to get me, and they might, for with one of us loose they know there’ll be an attempt at a rescue.”
Tom made himself comfortable on his cot, but for a time he could not sleep. Then he fell into a doze, only to awaken with a start as he heard someone prowling about the camp.
“Who’s there?” he called, sitting up and reaching out for his gun. There was no answer, and Tom arose and peered from the flaps of the tent. As he did so he saw a movement near the boxes where the provisions were kept.
“Get out of there!” he cried, as he fired in the air. A dark body leaped away and an ember of the fire, flaring up just then, revealed a small animal.
“Only a fox!” laughed our hero. “Go ahead, you’re welcome to all you can get,” for he had made the provisions secure before turning in. He was not again disturbed, and to his surprise the sun was high in the heavens when he awoke.
“I must have gotten in some good licks of sleep the latter part of the night,” he reasoned, as he stretched and arose. “Now for a good breakfast, and then to see what’s best to do.”