Bill Breakstone yawned tremendously, stretched himself as much as the narrow space would allow, and then slowly and with dignity sat up. He, too, was somewhat confused, but he pretended wisdom while he was trying to collect his senses. The two could barely see each other, and each felt rather than saw the wonder in the other's eyes.
"Well," said Bill Breakstone at last, "I'd have you to know, Sir Philip of the Dream and the Snore, though I can't prove that you've done either any more than I can prove that I haven't done both, that we're the genuine and true Babes in the Wood, only we've waked up. Here we've been asleep, maybe a week, maybe a month, and the pitying little birds have come and covered us up with leaves, and we've been warm and snug, and the wild animals haven't eaten us up, and the bad men, that is to say the Comanches, haven't found us. How do you feel, Phil?"
"Fine, never better in my life."
"That describes me, also, with beautiful accuracy. We'll never know, maybe, how long we've slept, whether one day, two days, or three days, but a good spirit has been watching over us; of that I'm sure.
"Phil and Bill,
To sleep they went;
Phil and Bill
From sleep they came.
Phil and Bill,
They had no tent;
But Phil and Bill,
They are true game.
Phil and Bill,
The leaves, a bed,
Phil and Bill,
They took no ill.
That's Phil and Bill.
"I don't think that's a bad poem, Phil, considering the short time I've had for its composition, and you'll observe that, with a modesty not common among poets, I've put you first."
"It's all right for the time," said Phil, "but don't do it too often. But, Bill, I'd trade a whole slab of poetry for an equal weight in beef or venison. I'm beginning to feel terribly hungry."
"I'd make the trade, too," said Bill Breakstone, "and that's not holding poetry so cheap, either. It's pleasant for the Babes in the Wood to wake up again, but there's a disadvantage; you've got to eat, and to eat you've got to find something that can be eaten. I'm like King Richard, 'A horse! A horse! My kingdom for a horse!' But I wouldn't ride that horse; I'd eat him."
"What time o' night would you say it is, Bill?"
Bill Breakstone attentively studied the few stars to be seen in the extremely dusky heavens.