Another half-hour passed, during which Syd had forgotten everything but his patient, and at last, full of anxiety, he felt that he must go and see him.
“No, I will not,” he muttered, and he began watching again.
“How contented these sailors are,” he said after a time; “how silently they sit keeping guard. I hope they are not asleep.”
He crept softly in the direction where Strake was posted, and as he neared it he thought to himself that it was a good job he had told the boatswain not to bring firearms; but as the thought came he oddly enough regretted it.
“If the brute is dangerous it is not fair to the men. I was wrong. But they must be all asleep, or they would have heard me.”
Click, click!
The cocking of a pistol close by.
“Strake! Don’t shoot.”
“You, Master Syd!” growled the boatswain, “I thought it was that there bear. Why, you shouldn’t come crawling up like that, sir, I might have shot at you.”
“But I told you not to bring pistols.”