“Nothing won’t surprise me now,” muttered Samson, as he tramped on slowly behind his leader in a very ill humour, which he did not display, for it was not pleasant for a heavy sleeper to be roused from his rest. “But it don’t matter. I’m about ready for anything now. Why, what’s he going to do up in the old wilderness? Oh, I know; after rabbits. Well, that’s better. A biled rabbit for dinner to-morrow, and a bit o’ bacon, will be like a blessing to a hungry man. Heigh—ho! ha—hum! how sleepy I do feel.”
“Hist!”
“Right, Master Fred.”
“There are sentinels a hundred yards to the right, and a hundred yards to the left,” whispered Fred, in his companion’s ear.
“Which as you haven’t measured it, sir, you don’t know,” said Samson to himself. But replying in a whisper, he said, “Yes, Master Fred, but you didn’t fetch me out of bed to tell me that.”
“No; I tell you now, to keep you from yawning like the Silcombe bull.”
“Well, I couldn’t help it, sir; but I won’t do so no more.”
“Keep close behind me, tread softly, and as soon as we get up to the wilderness move every bough as carefully as you can.”
“Rabbits, sir?”
“No, no. Silence! Follow me.”