“Nor do I. Let’s lie still and talk. That will rest us, even if we don’t sleep, and, as father says, we want to be fresh to-morrow.”
“All right,” said Dean, reaching for his rifle. “But let’s keep a sharp look out.”
This they did for quite five minutes, and then so hardened were they to their outdoor life that their restful breathing was the only thing that disturbed the silence within the waggon, save a faint rustling at the other end, caused by the doctor turning over, for during the last few minutes he had been awakened from a deep sleep by the boys’ muttering, and now that they were quiet again he too went off soundly.
It still wanted an hour to the coming of the first dawn when Mark started up.
“Here—what—” he began, when a hand was clapped over his mouth and he felt Dean’s lip at his ear. “Don’t make a noise,” his cousin whispered. “What’s the matter? Has the ape been again?”
“No. It wasn’t a baboon; it was one of those pigs.”
“Bosh! A pig couldn’t climb into the waggon.”
“No, no, stupid! Pigmy!”
“What nonsense! You have been asleep again.”
“Yes, fast; I couldn’t help it. So were you.”