“Who’s that?”
“Can’t you hear, Samson? Your brother Nat.”
There was utter silence for a minute, during which it seamed as if Samson was holding his breath, for at the end of that pause, he gave vent to a low hissing sound, which continued till it seemed wonderful that the man should have been able to retain so much air.
“Drink some of this,” Samson heard Fred whisper; and there was the peculiar gurgling sound as of liquid escaping from a bottle, followed by another whisper bidding the sufferer eat.
“Look here, Master Fred,” said Samson, as soon as he had sufficiently recovered from his surprise to speak.
“What is it?”
“Do you know who it is you’re talking to there in the dark?”
“Yes; your brother Nat.”
Samson remained silent and motionless as one of the trees for a minute. Then he caught Fred by the shoulder.
“What is it, Samson? Do you hear any one?”