Mr. Porter was so weak he needed sleep, so Dave told his parent to lie down on some of the brushwood, which he spread out as a couch next to the rocky wall.
"But what will you do, my son?" asked Mr. Porter.
"I'll remain on guard—so those bears don't get a chance to surprise us."
"But aren't you sleepy?"
"No—I'm so happy I don't think I'll be able to sleep for a week."
Mr. Porter lay down and closed his eyes, but it was a good hour before he dropped into a doze. Dave sat by the fire, where he could look at his father's face. It seemed as if he would never get done gazing at those features, so like his Uncle Dunston's.
"Found at last!" he murmured. "Found at last, and thank God for it!"
Two hours passed, and still Dave sat in the same position, thinking of the past and speculating on the future. He thought of his sister Laura and wondered how soon they would meet, and if she and Jessie would become friends.
"What's that?"
The boy leaped to his feet, and the sudden movement aroused his father. Both listened to a yelping and a growling at a distance. The yelping grew louder and louder, while the growling grew fainter.