CHAPTER III.
A hearty meal after a long fast invariably produces intense sleepiness.
No sooner had the young gentleman who was called, according to his own account, Jack Newcombe, finished his supper than he began to show palpable signs of exhaustion.
He felt, indeed, remarkably tired, or be sure he would have demanded the reason of the woodman’s refusal to allow his daughter to shake hands.
For once in a way, Jack—who was also called “The Savage” by his intimate friends—allowed the opportunity for a quarrel to slide by, and very soon also allowed the pipe to slide from his mouth, and his body from the chair.
Rousing himself with a muttered apology, he found that the woodman alone remained, and that he was sitting apparently forgetful of his guest’s presence.
“Did you speak?” said Jack, rubbing his eyes, and struggling with a very giant of a yawn. Gideon looked round.
“You are tired,” he said, slowly.
“Rather,” assented the Savage, with half-closed eyes; “it must have been the wind. I can’t keep my head up.”