"Indians."
"Oh, pshaw!" grunted Mr. Simms disgustedly.
"Indians?" interrupted Walter Perkins. "Tell me about it?"
"I was asleep," began Stacy.
"So that's the way you keep watch over our herd is it?" growled Luke. "We were just about to organize a searching party to go after you, when we saw you coming."
"I got tired. I sat down by a rook and—y-a-li—hum——"
"Ho-ho-ho—hum," yawned the foreman.
Within half a minute the whole outfit was yawning lazily, all save Old Hicks, the cook, who with hands thrust into his trousers pockets stood peering at the fat boy out of the corners of his eyes.
"Stop that, d'ye hear!" snapped Ned Rector angrily. "I'll duck you in that water hole, if you don't."
"Just been ducked," answered Stacy lazily. "Got kicked in by a sheep."