“Yes, that might be,” Morris acknowledged, ruefully looking over the broad expanse of beds. “It’ll be pretty hard to locate it.”
“I should think you could hear it,” Merton said, “it can’t be covered more than half an inch.”
Morris grasped at the possibility. “By George, that’s right,” he said.
“You’ve only sifted these four beds, haven’t you?” Price asked encouragingly.
“Yes,” Morris answered after thinking a minute, “only these four here.”
While the rest of the fellows gagged themselves or rolled ecstatically in some out of the way corner, Morris jack-knifed his gaunt length over the bed and, with his ear close to the ground, occasionally scooping up a little loose sand, weaved his way slowly up the long bed. The lowliness of his head and the extreme length of his thighs caused him to present a most remarkable figure. This queer position coupled with the set expression of intent listening threw the boys almost into convulsions.
Slowly he went up one bed and down the other without varying his tiresome procedure in the least.
“Reminds me of a spring robin looking for worms,” Merton said. “You’ll see him pull one up in a minute.”
“If you can’t hear that watch there,” Bill Price called sympathetically, “go out in the brush and hear a wood tick.”
“Why don’t you give him that watch, Hazen?” Greenleaf called across from another bed. “He’ll break his back in a minute.”