Then he began to nod; a little at first, then more and more, until he caught himself falling forward, almost asleep.
"My, my! I mustn't go off like this," he said, rubbing his eyes. "It won't do to take a snooze here."
For a time he fought off the drowsiness, only to find it coming over him more and more strongly. Oh, how nice it was out here in the woods. There was a gentle wind, the leaves seemed to rustle and whisper to him. Ah! He was floating away—away—off—off—to the land—of nod—to—the—land—of—nod—the—land—of—nod—nod—nod!
Then! Roger was fast asleep!
No! Not asleep! He was on the verge. Just going to tumble over into the finest feather bed he ever knew, when there was a noise that sounded like a clap of thunder.
Crash!
Roger sat up, clutching the tree, against which he leaned, with a grip of terror. His heart was going like a trip-hammer. There was the echo of a great roaring in his ears. For a second he could not tell where he was. Then came another noise, less loud.
Snap!
Ah! It was only the breaking of a twig. He calmed down. But what did it mean? Somebody must be coming to find him. Of course, that was it. Adrian and his father were searching.
Roger leaped to his feet. He peered into the darkness.