"I—I wouldn't be any good at that," pleaded Dutcher anxiously.
"No," smiled Dick dryly, "I don't believe you would. As I proposed the guard stunt, I'll take the first dose of my own medicine. Later in the night I'll call Dave, and when he's through he'll call Tom. All you fellows pile back into bed and get some sleep."
"You take the air rifle, then," urged Dan, passing it over. As this rather insignificant weapon might possibly be of some use, in the event of more definite trouble, Dick accepted it.
One after another the fellows dropped off to sleep, all except Hen, who lay very still, with heart thumping wildly.
Half an hour after Prescott's tour of guard duty began three wild wails, wordless, smote the air, one after the other. Dave, Tom and Dan awoke.
"It's all right," Dick called to them, softly. "Nothing but noises. Don't be afraid but I'll call you if its needed."
So those who had a chance, dozed off. Hen didn't have any chance; his cowardly soul wasn't made for sleep when there was any danger about.
It was twenty minutes past three when Dick stepped over and nudged Dave gently, next whispering:
"It's about time for you, now. You call Tom at a little after five, and then tell him to call us all at seven o'clock."
Dave hurriedly dressed and took the air rifle from Dick, the latter then getting back into his bunk and soon dropping off in sleep.