“Five minutes,” said Jack, sleepily.
“Nearly five hours, sir.”
“Then they weren’t good measure,” grumbled Jack.
“There’s plenty of wood, Dick,” said Mr Rogers, “and I’d keep up a good blazing fire. I have not heard a sound; but if you are alarmed, a piece of blazing wood thrown in the direction is better than firing at random; but keep your rifles ready.”
These words drove drowsy sleep from the boys’ eyelids, and clambering out of the waggon, the fresh cold night air finished the task.
They saw Mr Rogers climb into the waggon and their black followers crawl under it; then taking the rifles, they saw to there being a ball cartridge in each, and big slugs in the shot barrel; and after throwing on a few sticks to make the fire blaze, they walked slowly up and down.
“How dark and strange the forest looks, Jack,” said Dick, “I say, I’m not ashamed to say that it does make one feel timid.”
“It makes two feel timid,” said Jack, sturdily. “Look at the dark shadows the fire throws. Why it almost looks as if there were all sorts of horrible creatures watching us. If I didn’t feel that father had been sitting here watching, and wasn’t afraid I’d give it up.”
“Perhaps he did feel afraid,” said Dick.
“Not he,” said Jack sturdily. “If he had felt afraid, he wouldn’t have let us watch here.”