“Lucky for some of them, Mister Archie,” said Peter, as he stretched out his hand for the gun and crept forward. “There you are, sir. I feel like a new man. Have a good sleep, sir. It helps the time along beautifully. How did you guess an hour, sir?”
“Never mind about the time, Pete. You guess another as nearly as you can; but wake me, of course, if there is any danger.”
“You trust me, sir,” was the reply; and Archie lay down, feeling that the position would be restful, but certain that he should not be able to sleep.
Five minutes had not elapsed, however, before he was sleeping heavily, but ready to awaken at a touch and sit up, to stare about him wildly.
“Why, Pete,” he said angrily, “I have had more than an hour.”
“Well, just a little, sir. Feel all the better for it, don’t you?”
“Why, you scoundrel,” cried Archie as he readied for the gun, “it’s close upon evening—close upon night! How dare you disobey my orders? Why didn’t you wake me up?”
“Hadn’t the heart, sir,” said the lad quietly.
“But I said—”
“Yes, I know you did; and I was going to wake you up half-a-dozen times, but I knowed how weak you were, and that you would want every bit of strength for what we have got to do to-night; and I didn’t want you to break down.”