It must have been close to midnight when Sam fell into a doze, being so worn out he could scarcely hold up his head. He had piled the fire as high as possible and his only danger was that the smoke might veer around and choke him to death.
How long he dozed he could not tell exactly, afterward, nor could he tell what awoke him. But he opened his eyes with a start and was on his feet almost before he was aware.
“I heard something,” he told himself. “What was it?”
He listened but only a faint breeze blowing through the grass and wild plantains reached his ears. He strained his eyes, yet only the total darkness met his gaze.
Much alarmed Sam continued to stand on guard. He had cut himself the stalk of a young plantain with his jack-knife and he held this in his hands, at the same time keeping as close to the fire as possible, knowing that all wild beasts dread anything burning.
CHAPTER XXII
PORT OF THE HAIR
“Where is Sam?”
Such was the question which came from Mark, after the worst of the blow was over.
“Samuel?” queried Professor Strong, quickly. “Isn’t he at the bow?”
“No, sir.”