“Do you honestly think anything will happen?” asked Marjorie, as she sat down upon one of the army cots.
“I really don’t think so,” whispered Jack. “It’s not my luck. There’s never anything but false alarms when I’m around.”
“But you’re Ethel now,” she muttered, between her teeth. Then, aloud:
“But come, Ethel, you’re dreadfully sleepy, I mustn’t keep you awake. Spread out your blanket!”
Jack placed both blankets upon the couches, and fussing inarticulately about his hair, stretched himself out at full length. But they found that they could not go to sleep; they continued to toss about for nearly an hour, even though there were no sounds to disturb them. Then Jack grew exasperated.
“I’m dying for a smoke, Sis!” he whispered. “Do you suppose—?”
“No! No!” protested Marjorie. “Ethel doesn’t—no Girl Scouts do!”
“Well, I wish she did!” growled the boy, lying down again.
And yet in spite of his impatience Jack fell asleep before Marjorie. Long after he was breathing regularly she was listening for the noises outside the tea-house, wondering whether John and Dick were safely in their hiding-place, and above all, keeping her ear alert for the cellar. Once or twice she thought she heard someone in the yard or back by the stable, and she even sat up to listen. But each time she decided it was nobody—unless perhaps it might be one of the watchers, creeping to his place of concealment in the honey-suckle. At last, she too dozed off, and slept through the small hours.
As in her previous experience, Marjorie was awakened just before dawn by a repetition of the same continued, regular knocking which she had heard twice before. Instantly she sat up in bed; but this time it was joy rather than fear that took possession of her. She was so excited that she almost called her sleeping companion by his right name. She just recovered herself in time.