“Well,” said Ferdinand, philosophically, “I suppose we might as well dispose ourselves for sleep. There is nothing else to do.”
“Here’s my flashlight,” said Bob, throwing its rays about. “Had it on me when I was captured. At least we can see our way to the couches.”
CHAPTER XIII—THE FEAST OF RAYMI
“Fellows, what’s that?”
Bob rolled over drowsily, then fell to the stone floor with a thump that effectually awakened him. He looked up. Jack stood above him, grinning. Bob rubbed his hip ruefully, then got to his feet. Frank, with whom he had been sleeping, also clambered out of bed.
Gray light coming in through the loopholes to the east lighted the room only dimly. Ferdinand and his father still slept on the couch which they had shared together. Mr. Hampton, who had slept with Jack, was not awake, nor were the two huachos.
“What in—-”
Bob was still rubbing his hip.