The night was not half over when again the sleepers were awakened—this time by a wild shriek close at hand. And as the boys came tumbling out it was to see Nat rolling about in his blanket and shouting amidst its folds.
CHAPTER XXII
WHAT NAT SAW
“Nat’s got a fit!” yelled Andy Hale, giving vent to the first thought that flashed into his mind when he saw the other carrying on so wildly.
“More likely the wild man tackled him!” cried Peg Fosdick.
“Whee! hold on to him then, Nat! Don’t let him get away!” Eddie Grant admonished, while Clint Babbett added to the din by adding:
“We’re right here, Nat, ready to help you! Sic him, Nat. Get a strangle hold on the ferocious burglar!”
Suddenly Nat stopped whirling about so furiously. He even managed to poke his tousled head from under the folds of his blanket, and seemed to squint cautiously about him, much as a tortoise does after an alarm.
“Is it gone?” he demanded, faintly, as though short of breath.
“What ails you, Nat?” asked Dick.
“Been having an attack of the nightmare, I reckon, and dreamed he saw something as big as a house and as ugly as Bill Biddon’s bulldog!” snapped Dan Fenwick, with a perceptible sneer in his voice.