The Aleut finally produced from under the deck a dirty little bag tightly tied.
“Chi!” he exclaimed, holding it up in triumph.
“You see,” said John, “we’ve got tea all right. Now it looks to me that we could get a pretty good meal.”
By the time the Aleut had prepared their supper for them, and had made each a tin can of hot tea, all the boys began to feel tired and sleepy, for now the hour of night was well advanced, although the Alaskan sun stood well above the horizon.
“I’m mighty sleepy,” said John, yawning.
“I should think you would be,” said Jesse, “after all you ate. But if we’re sleepy, why can’t we go to sleep?”
“That would never do,” spoke up Rob. “We don’t know what this native might do while we were all asleep. I’ve been thinking that over. It seems to me the only way we can do is to tie his hands together, so he can’t do any harm, and then take turns in standing watch.”
“Have we got to do that always?” asked John, sleepily.
“We’ve got to do it to-night, at least,” said Rob, emphatically. “Take that piece of hide rope, John, tie his wrists together, and pass it down to his ankles behind his back. He can sleep a little in that way, at least; and I’ll stand the first watch.”
The Aleut, not doubting at the first of these motions that they intended to kill him, fell upon his knees and began to jabber, apparently begging for mercy. At last he grinned as he looked down at his manacled hands, and presently, without much more ado, rolled himself over on his blankets and seemed to fall asleep. On the opposite side of the hut Jesse and John followed his example, and soon were fast in real sleep. Rob sat by the failing fire, his rifle across his knees. He, too, was tired with the work of the day. At times, in spite of himself, his head would drop forward and he would awake with a start.