“Cartier stole Donnacona and nine other Indian chiefs and sailed away for France, where he arrived about the middle of July, 1536. And that’s the end of chapter two,” Bob added, as he rose from his seat.
Tom now departed for home, and as the boys began to prepare for the night, Bob stopped for a moment before the prostrate figure of Ben, who was still sleeping soundly on the ground before the camp-fire.
“I was never treated thusly in all my experience as a lecturer,” said Bob. “I’ll fix that fellow. I’ll show him he mustn’t spoil my speeches with his hilarious snorings.”
Running into the tent Bob speedily returned with several short pieces of rope, in each of which he made a slip noose. Then he carefully adjusted one to the sleeping lad’s right hand, and without disturbing him, made the rope fast to the nearest tree. In a similar manner he treated the other hand and then the two feet, and last of all the head of the still unconscious Ben.
“Now, I’d like to wake him up,” said Bob, regarding his work with much satisfaction. “He won’t go to sleep again when I’m lecturing, I fancy. If he moves his right hand he’ll make himself all the more secure, and if he tries to stir his other hand or his feet he’ll be still worse off. Next time he’ll see the point, I’m thinking.”
The boys were soon ready for bed and still Ben slept on. The camp-fire flickered and burned low, the long shadows ceased, and even the waiting boys at last closed their eyes and slept.
How long they had been sleeping they did not know, but they were suddenly awakened by a yell that startled them all. Quickly sitting up, the boys at first could not determine what it was that had so alarmed them.
In a moment, however, the yell was repeated, louder and longer than before.
“It’s Ben,” said Bob, quickly. “I’ll go out and ascertain whether he can see the point.”