He sat down on his blanket and leaned against the wall, near the mouth of the room. The others stretched out, even as Shif'less Sol had done, and breathing a sigh or two of satisfaction followed him into a land without dreams.
Although Henry's sleep was dreamless, it did not last very long. He awoke in three or four hours. It was quite dark, but, as he lay on his back and gazed steadily, he was able to make out the figure of Silent Tom, crouched on his blanket beside the door, his rifle across his knees. Although saying nothing Henry had paid attention to what Paul had said about the ancient cave man, and now it was easy for his fancy to transform Ross into such a being. The rifle on his knees was his stone club, and he watched by the opening all through the night lest an enemy should come. For the present, at least, it was as much reality as fancy, because here was the cave, and here they were, guarding against a possible foe.
"Tom," he called softly.
Ross looked around.
"What is it?" he asked.
"I'm restless. I can't sleep any more, and, as I'm going to stay by the opening, you'd better persuade yourself to go to sleep."
"Are you bent on watchin', Henry?"
"Yes, I intend to sit up."
"Then I'll go to sleep."
He lay down on his blanket, and Henry took his place by the wall.