The man raised himself on his elbow.
'Really now,' he said; 'that's interesting. But I think I'll give the keeper the opportunity of moving me. Why, it's quite fine, the sun's coming out, and the sparrows are hopping round—cheeky little devils! I'm not sure that I don't feel jolly.'
'I wish I'd got the price of a pint about me,' sighed Darkey, and the other man dropped his head and appeared to sleep. Then Darkey dozed a little, and heard in his waking sleep the heavy, crunching tread of an approaching park-keeper; he started up to warn his companion, but thought better of it, and closed his eyes again.
'Now then, there,' the park-keeper shouted to the man with the sailor's cap, 'get up! This ain't a fourpenny doss, you know. No lying down.'
A rough shake accompanied the words, and the man sat up.
'All right, my friend.'
The keeper, who was a good-humoured man, passed on without further objurgation.
The face of the younger man had grown whiter.
'Look here, Darkey,' he said, 'I believe I'm done for.'
'Never say die.'