"Reckon he was after the game, and nuthin' more, Dick. He must have been powerful hungry, or he wouldn't have come so close to us. He's a putty big fellow," went on the guide, as he dragged the carcass closer to the firelight.
The fire was burning low, and Dick lost no time in heaping on some of the newly cut brushwood, and then he reloaded and the guide did the same.
"Might have a mate around," suggested John Barrow. "We had better keep our eyes peeled, or we may be surprised. Wonder what time it is?"
By consulting a watch they found it was just midnight. After the excitement Dick felt quite sleepy, and inside of half an hour he followed the guide's advice and laid down to rest—not under the tree, however, but as close to the camp-fire as safety permitted.
Dick had requested John Barrow to call him in three hours, so that the guide might get a little more sleep, but the youth was allowed to slumber until he aroused of his own accord, just as day was breaking.
"Hullo, I've slept all night!" he exclaimed, leaping up with something of a hurt look. "Why didn't you call me?"
"I thought as how you needed the rest," was the answer from the guide.
"Aren't you sleepy?"
"Not very. A sleep early in the night generally does me more good nor hours o' it later on."
"You haven't seen or heard anything of Tom or Sam?"