“But it was so real. I could see their grinning teeth and rolling eyes, and every one had got a knife in one hand and a chopper in the other as they sprang at me.”
“That proves it, Esau,” I said. “How could you see their knives, and eyes, and teeth here in this darkness! Why, you can’t see my face, not even your own hands, and yet the fire’s brighter than it was before.”
“Well, that is rum,” cried Esau, as if to himself. “I saw ’em all as plain as could be, and they shouted their war-cry.”
“War!—gammon!” said Gunson, crossly. “Lie down, you two fellows, and go to sleep. He was dreaming, Gordon. Don’t listen to his cock-and-bull nonsense.”
“All right,” I said. “Good-night.”
“Good-night.”
“Good-night, Esau.”
“Good-night. But dreaming! Well, of all! And they were as plain as could be, and had got feathers in their heads.”
“Yes, blue ones,” I said, grumpily. “And look here, Esau, if you’re going to dance a war-dance on my chest again, please to take off your boots.”
Esau chuckled, and the last thing I heard as I dropped asleep again was Esau muttering to himself—