“You didn’t tell me,” said Stan; “and it seems very strange. I thought I came out to you and you caught me by the shoulder.”
“You did not, and I did not catch you by the shoulder till I came and shook you to wake you up.”
“Then I must have dreamed it,” said Stan, “for I certainly seemed to see you there in the darkness.”
“Yes, you must have dreamed it; but it seems very strange.”
“Horribly,” said Stan.
“Don’t you get dreaming any more of that sort of stuff, then,” said Blunt shortly. “Here, catch hold of this whistle; but mind, you are not to use it unless the enemy come in sight. Then blow as if you wanted to bring the place down. Pleasant watch to you. I’m off. If I don’t go and lie down I shall fall down and sleep on these stones.”
“Good rest to you,” said Stan quietly. “One moment: where are you going to lie down?”
“On the planks that formed your bed. They’re nice and soft now, I suppose.”
“No; horribly hard. Put some bags under you.”
“Not I,” said Blunt gruffly. “I could sleep now on a row of spikes. Good-night—morning, or whatever it is.”