ON THE GREAT TRAIL
An hour after the little gray bird had announced that it was noon and all was well Henry awoke, and now he sat up. The bird, hearing rustlings below, and feeling that his task of watchman was over, flew away. His song was heard for a moment or two in the boughs of a tree, then it grew faint and died in the distance. But his work was done and he had done it well.
Henry put his hand on Sol's shoulder, and the shiftless one also sat up.
"You've slept a week, Sol," Henry said.
"That's a whopper. I just laid down, slept a minute, waked up, heard a bird singin', then slept another minute."
"Just the same happened to me, but it's past midday. Look through the vines there and see the sun."
"It's so. How time does pass when the warriors are lettin' your scalp alone."
"Wake up, Jim."
Shif'less Sol poked Long Jim with his moccasined foot.
"Here you, Jim Hart," he said. "Wake up. Do you think we've got nothin' to do but set here, an' listen to you snorin' fur two days an' two nights, when we've got to overtake an Injun army and thrash it?"