“Are you asleep in there?” said a low voice.
“Mr Bracy, sir,” cried Gedge eagerly. “No, sir; we’re wido.”
“How are you, my lads—in much pain?”
“Oh no, sir; we’re all right.”
“I came just to see how you are. Good-night. Try and get to sleep.”
“Yes, sir; thank ye, sir. Good-night, sir.”
“Good-night.”
There was a faint rustle as of feet passing over cedar needle, and then a faint choky sound as if some one in the dark were trying to swallow something.
“I like that,” said Symons at last in a whisper; “makes yer feel as if yer orficers do think o’ something else besides making yer be smart.”
“Like it?” said Gedge huskily. “I should just think you do. Oh, I say, though, what a guy I shall look in the morning! Wish we’d got a box o’ dominoes and a bit o’ candle.”