The cook, watching the face of each man in turn, began to blubber; and when I, the youngest and last, cast my vote with the rest, he literally rolled on the ground and bellowed.
"Get up!" Roger snapped out at him.
He did so in a kind of stupid wonder.
"Now then, cook, there's been enough of this nonsense. Come, let's sleep.
At daylight to-morrow we'll be on our way."
Apparently the negro at first doubted his ears; but Roger's peremptory tone brought him to his senses, and the frank disapproval of the others ended his perversity.
A certain confidence that our troubles were soon to be ended in one way or another, coupled with exhaustion, enabled me to sleep deeply that night, despite the numberless perils that beset us.
I was aware that the cook continually moaned to himself and that at some time in the night Roger and Blodgett were throwing stones at a wild beast that was prowling about. Then the sun shone full on my face and I woke with a start.
Roger and Davie Paine each gave Neddie Benson an arm, Blodgett and I pushed ahead to find the best footing, and the cook, once more palsied with fear, again came last. To this day I have not been able to account for Frank's strange weakness. In all other circumstances he was as brave as a lion.
Staggering along as best we could, we arrived at the stream we had found before—we dared not drink its water, even in our extremity—and followed it to the glade, which this time we boldly entered. At first we saw no one, but when we had advanced a few steps, we came upon three girls fishing from the bank of the stream. As they darted off along the path that led up the glade, we started after them, but we were so weak that, when we had gone only a short distance, we had to sit down on the trunk of a large tree to rest.
About a quarter of an hour later we heard steps, and shortly seven men appeared by the same path.