“No–o,” said Archie wonderingly.
“Here, stop a minute; let me give you some water.”
And in the darkness Archie lay listening to the pleasant, musical, trickling sound of falling water; while directly after, as he felt the private’s hand passed under his neck, he made an effort to rise, and fell a-wondering again, for he could not stir.
But the next minute there was a fancied feeling of returning strength as he swallowed the cool draught with avidity, drinking till the desire came upon him to sink back with a deep sigh of content, and he felt his companion’s arm withdrawn.
“Go to sleep after that, can’t you?” whispered the private.
“No; I want to know what it all means.”
“Hadn’t you better go to sleep, sir?”
“No!” cried Archie, in a voice so full of the agony of desire that Peter spoke out excitedly:
“Well, we are prisoners, sir.”
“Prisoners! How? Why?”