"I might need them before morning," he told himself.
Chunky being sound asleep, Ned grabbed him by a foot giving him a violent pull.
"Wat'cher want? Get out!" growled the fat boy sleepily.
"Get up and take your watch!" commanded Ned.
"Who's afraid of Indians?" mumbled Stacy.
This time Ned took the lad by the collar, jerked him to his feet and shook him until Stacy yelled "Ouch!" so loudly as to awaken the entire camp.
It took some time, however, to get Stacy himself awake sufficiently to make him understand that he had a duty to perform. Finally, however, he shouldered his rifle, after surreptitiously helping himself to a sandwich from the cook tent. Then he marched off, munching the bread and meat.
"See here," snapped Ned, running after him. "You're not measuring off your distance. Come back and pace it off."
"How many?"
"Two hundred yards. Stretch your fat legs as far as they'll go, then you'll have a yard, more or less."