Once more the silence of the night, the vague crumbling of the ash, the measured sound of the sentry's tread. There was no echo of the passing of time—but how leaden-footed! How slowly fared the night! How motionless lay those cloaked figures, each with his head on his saddle!
"Watt," her voice came plaintively out of the gloom. "I'm scared!"
This time, though all stirred, they did not rise.
"Pshaw! Scared of what?"
She did not answer. Only after a time she queried irrelevantly, "Can mice climb?"
"Did you see that in a book, too?" asked Watt.
"They can only climb under certain conditions," opined Hugh, sleepily.
"But they'd scorn to intrude on a lady in a hammock, Sister," declared George.
"Oh, hush, George!" said Jim, authoritatively. "No mouse can get up there, Sister. Why don't you go to sleep?"
"I can't," said Millie Fisher, plaintively. "I saw so many awful things to-day!"