The offer was a tempting one to men situated as they were, but after a short consultation with his comrades the corporal thought they had better not accept it; they would feel safer and sleep more soundly right there in the woods. Then Ned suggested that they should wrap themselves in the blankets and get what rest they could while he stood guard, and to his surprise and Tom Randolph's unbouded delight, the proposition was accepted without an instant's hesitation. To keep up appearances Tom took the blanket that was passed to him and rolled himself up in it; but he had no intention of going to sleep. He had another idea in his head, and it was just about as foolish as his notion of trying to pass himself off for a soldier when he was nothing but a Home Guard.
"Good-night, Johnny; and many thanks for that grub and this warm blanket," said one of the escaped prisoners who had not spoken before.
"Good-night, Yank, and welcome," replied Ned. "But I am not a Johnny."
"And neither am I a Yank," said the soldier. "I came from Michigan. But good-night."
After that silence reigned in that dark, lonesome camp for the space of half an hour. The soldiers were weary and sank into a deep slumber almost as soon as they had adjusted their blankets to suit them; but Tom Randolph was wide awake. He curbed his impatience until the heavy breathing of his captors told him that they were in a state of unconsciousness, and then said cautiously:
"Ned, Ned! Have you got a gun?"
"No. What do I want of a gun?" was the answer.
"Where are they?"
"Wrapped up in the blankets with the soldiers, most likely."
"Well, say, Ned; look here," whispered Tom coaxingly.