Irritated by his answer, I blurted out:
"As you are determined to stay here, Uncle Peter, we'll not leave you."
But although, shortly after, the rest who were with him followed the old Dutchman's example, and after a smoke—the usual night-cap of the scout or trapper, spread out their blankets and prepared for rest, I was unable to do so. The unerring presentiment, which, without inspiring terror, tells us to be prepared for danger ahead, kept me on the watch. It was, therefore, at an early hour I aroused the camp.
"I'll pet," exclaimed the Dutchman, wrathful at what he considered his untimely wakening, turning to Clapp, "dat Mose vas not sleep all night."
"I tell you," was my sharp reply, "we had better get out of this place, cursed quickly!"
All of them, the old man excepted, turned out. In spite of Clapp's remonstrances, he, however, re-rolling himself in his blanket, petulantly exclaimed:
"Vell! I shleeps, some more."
It was scarcely a quarter of an hour after this, when we were fired upon from the craggy rocks which commanded our position. This volley slaughtered two of our doomed band. With very pardonable anger, although I have since regretted this ebullition of temper, I administered a sharp kick to the form of Uncle Peter, who was rolling out of his blankets.
"Get up, at once," I sung out. "I suppose you'll follow my advice, now."
"Dey von't hurt old Pete," he responded, "so I vill get my plankets."