“No,” said Tim. “Uncle would not like us to interfere without being asked, but I shall lie and listen all night. I couldn’t go to sleep fancying that black fellows were crawling up to attack us.”
“No,” said Rifle, softly; “one feels all of a fidget, and ready to fancy all sorts of things.”
“Nonsense!” said Norman. “It’s because it’s so hot to-night. That’s all.”
“Man don’t mean it,” said Tim, quietly. “He’s as fidgety as we are.”
“Yes, of course I am, but it’s only the heat.”
“Call it what you like,” said Rifle; “but you don’t feel as if you could sleep to-night.”
“Well, I don’t feel sleepy yet,” said Norman, carelessly.
But a long day on horseback and the quiet of their quarters, joined to the knowledge that their elders would be on guard, sufficed to nullify all their declarations, and half an hour had not elapsed before the regular, steady breathing of three healthy lads told that they were passing the night in the most satisfactory way.