“Yes.”
“But the slugs and snails and beetles and things ’ll come and eat it all before morning. Don’t let’s waste good food, sir, like that.”
“Do as I bid you, sir. Give me the food.”
Samson sighed and obeyed. The bread and fowl were placed with the bottle on the jerkin at the far end of the little tunnel where Nat had lain, and Fred backed out.
“Come,” he said laconically.
Samson grunted dismally, and followed his leader; and after they had struggled out of the wilderness, they made their way back to camp without any further check than a challenge or two, the password enabling them to reach the tent not long before morning dawned.