“How about you, Jack?” offered Pierce.
“I wouldn’t move for the world,” replied that person. “Half of me is asleep already.”
“All right then. Good night! Call us if you need any help.”
“No such luck! Good night!”
When John lay down he had every intention of going to sleep; but he found that it was not so easy as he thought. He envied Jack, who was already breathing regularly by his side. No doubt the nap he had earlier in the evening took the edge from his fatigue; but he was also conscious of an inward state of excitement which was far from conducive to sleep. He smiled to himself as he analyzed his own feelings: he had always regarded himself as a steady, common-place sort of creature, not a bit excitable; in fact, at school he had had a reputation of being particularly reliable, a cool hand in a tight place. When he had pitched on his school nine, his team-mates learned that there was no danger of his becoming rattled simply because there was three men on base at a time when an additional run would lose the game for them; in such situations John Hadley always pitched his best.
He knew that his present restlessness was not due to fear of anything, either natural or supernatural, that might happen; he even longed for action as a means of relieving the tension. He was surprised at the number of strange sounds a house will make during the night; at every creak and rattle he would prick up his ears. One noise in particular, which seemed to come from upstairs, startled him; but he exerted his will power, and refrained from investigating; for he could hear Eugene Schofield clear his throat from time to time, and knew thereby that he too was still awake.
“I am entirely too anxious for something to happen,” he told himself.
So he forced himself to think of other things, tried to relax as much as possible, and to lie perfectly still. It was then that he realized how much the other boys were tossing about, even though they slept. Occasionally someone would murmur inarticulately.
“Too many ghost stories for you,” thought John. “Yet you sleep, while I stay awake. Well, I guess I’m just as well satisfied at that. Why should I care whether I go to sleep or not? If I stay awake, so much the better if anything does happen; it’s what I’m here for, anyway. And this certainly is better than having a nightmare.”
It was after he took this attitude that he finally dozed off. The next thing he knew he was standing up, wide awake. He could not tell how long he had slept, but it was evidently not long; for the coals in the fire-place were still glowing, and giving off enough light for him to distinguish the sleeping form of Jack. He could not remember the act of getting up; yet he was standing upright when consciousness had come to him. Was it a condition of over-wrought nerves, or had some unusual sound aroused him?