“No fear, I’m going to remain in camp,” declared Fleming. “I’m sleepy, too.”
“Why don’t you toss for it?” suggested Upward. “Sudden death—the winner to do as he likes.”
The idea took on, and Fleming came out the winner.
“All right, Bracebrydge,” said the latter, jubilant. “I’ll have my snooze while you sacrifice yourself in the cause of others—and sport.”
The latter snarled, but even he drew the line at backing out of his pledge.
Meanwhile Campian, no longer able to restrain a roar, had hurried from the dining tent.
“What’s the joke, now?” called out Nesta, who, with Mrs Upward, was seated beneath the trees.
“Yes, it is a joke.”
“Well, we’re spoiling to hear it; go on.”
“Ssh—ssh! little girls shouldn’t be impatient. The joke is this—Wait. They’re coming,” with a look over his shoulder.