"The moon rises later—an hour before midnight."
"That then is your only hope?"
"Yes, sahib."
"God pity us then, for that is no hope at all; this kind of weather will last for weeks."
"I will now sleep, sahib, if you will watch."
"I am glad to hear you say so; go back in the room and slumber all you want."
"No, sahib; I will lie here," replied Luchman, who stretched himself upon the hard couch, close to the inanimate form that was growing cold and stiff. Five minutes later, he was unconscious.
"And now I must take the place of poor Harkins," thought Avery, beginning to pace back and forth on his beat. "As likely as not some assassin will try the same game on me. I won't carry the rifle, but will hold my pistol ready."
A more trying situation cannot be conceived, and Avery would not have paced the floor in this manner, but for a morbid horror that if he sat down he would fall asleep and imperil the safety of the rest.
The action of Luchman in throwing himself on the floor, thus placing his life, as may be said, in the keeping of his friend, intensified the anxiety of the latter to guard against surprise.