“How are you going to sleep, Mr. Pitt?”
“On a bed of boughs.”
“Where?”
“Oh, there’s plenty of room all around.”
“And no shelter? Suppose it rains? Why do you wish to leave this cave?”
“My dear Miss Baldwin!” I protested.
“Shocked?” she said mournfully. “I can’t help it. It seems so ridiculous to think of such things out here. We—we’re Injuns. See, there’s a nice corner right near the opening, yet with a roof over it. We can fill that with boughs. I—I’d get frightened, really, if you left me here all alone.”
“Putting it that way, of course—”
“That’s right. Now I’m going to help make your bed.”
Fifteen minutes later, perhaps, I lay down upon a pile of branches near the mouth of the cavern and blew out the candle.