“Well,” says I, “we’ll know some day.”
“Can’t tell,” says Mark. “Maybe it’s one of those kind of s-s-secrets that can’t ever be told.”
“That,” says I, “would be doggone aggravatin’.”
“It would,” says Mark. “Let’s go to bed.”
About the next thing I remember was Plunk shaking me to tell me his watch was over. It didn’t seem like I’d shut my eyes at all.
“Anything happen?” says I.
“Not a thing,” says he. “They’ve got a big fire, and a couple of them are sittin’ in front of it. But they haven’t made a move. Just watchin’ us, I guess.”
Mark and I went down to mount guard. Sure enough, they had a big watch-fire, and a couple of them were crouching in front of it. Mark and I walked up and down and up and down, but nobody stirred. For hours it kept on just like that. Somehow I got a feeling that nothing was going to happen, and I told Mark so.
“Just the t-t-time somethin’s apt to happen,” says he. “The Man Who Will Come is p-probably tryin’ to make us feel that way, and as soon as we act careless, swoop! down he’ll be on us.”
But I was right for once. Morning came without a hostile act by the enemy. It was just five o’clock when Mark and I turned in, and we slept till nine. We’d have slept longer if Binney hadn’t set up a yell.