“Then you oughtn’t to have been. If you’ve been to sleep and let that boat go, I’ll never forgive you.”
Bob had hardly uttered the words when Dexter, who had forgotten all about the boat, ran to the water’s edge feeling sure that it was gone.
But it was quite safe, and he went back to Bob.
“What shall we do now!” he said.
“Do?” said Bob, yawning. “You sit and keep watch while I go to sleep for a quarter of an hour. Then you may call me, and I’ll take my turn.”
Bob curled himself up after the fashion of a dog, and went off to sleep directly, while, as Dexter, who felt chilly, began to walk up and down between the water’s edge and the steep cliff-like bank, he could not help once more wishing that he was in his comfortable bed at the doctor’s.
He waited for long over a quarter of an hour, keeping his lonely watch, but Bob slept on and snored.
At the end of about an hour and a half he thought it would only be fair to call his companion to take his turn, but he called in vain.
Then he tried shaking, but only to elicit growls, and when he persevered Bob hit out so savagely that Dexter was fain to desist.
“I’ll let him sleep half an hour longer,” he said to himself; and he walked to and fro to keep himself warm.