“We didn’t tell Jack the Kaffir to bring our shaving-water at daybreak,” said Ingleborough, who now that he was in a horizontal position seemed to have suddenly grown wakeful. “I say.”
“Well?”
“I wonder how our dear friend Anson is!”
West made no reply.
“I say! West!”
“Oh, don’t talk, please. I want to sleep.”
“All right, you shall, till I see the pearly dawn streaming in through that little window at the back here. I say, though, if you hear me turn round in the night and the cartridges begin to pop, just wake me up, or there may be an accident.”
West again made no reply.
“And we should have Tante Ann waking up, when there would be a greater explosion still. There, good night!”
“Good night.”