“I don’t. I can’t. I feel all over of a tingle. I should like a set-to. Come on out, and then I should like you to skeeter me.”
“Don’t be a fool, Chris. Let’s go to sleep and get ready for to-morrow. My word, what a day we shall have! It seems wonderful. I can hardly believe it’s true.”
“That is,” said Chris, for there was an angry rap on the partition, given by the doctor, who felt as nervously excited as the two boys.
The final rap brought calm, though, sending the lads off into a deep sleep which lasted till sunrise, when they stepped out of their rough bunks, hurried down to the water-pool to have a bathe, and had just finished bathing when Chris caught sight of the tall gaunt figure of the American striding through the Bartlett-pear plantation.
“Coo-ee!” cried Chris.
“Oh, there you are, young ’uns,” came in reply. “Mornin’. Well, what time will you be ready to start?”
“Directly after breakfast,” cried Chris.
“Packed up your duds?”
“No, not yet.”
“Well, look sharp.”