“Lem dange. Here, tell the doctor. Don’ wake uncle, nor me.”
“Oh, dear, what shall I do!” said Mark, half aloud. “Oh, my head! My head! This must be—yes, I remember; I am in the waggon—here, Dean! Dean!” And he began shaking his cousin again.
“Don’t! Don’t!” And there was the sound of the boy’s bare feet kicking, and a snatch made as if to draw back the blankets that had been sent flying. “Oh, I will serve you out for—here, what do you want?”
“You to wake up. Can’t you see how dark it is?”
“Dark?”
“Yes; quite black.”
Dean was wide awake now.
“Yes, everything’s as black as black.”
“Well, did you expect it to be white?”
“Can’t you hear that dreadful noise?”