"Won't you try to keep awake a little while? It won't seem so lonesome."
"Sorry I can't accommodate you, Mr. Peabody; but I'm awfully tired and sleepy."
"Who's that talking there?" drowsily demanded the nearest emigrant. "Can't you keep quiet, and let a fellow sleep?"
"Good night, Mr. Peabody," said Tom, by way of putting an end to the conversation.
"Good night," returned the sentinel disconsolately.
The hours passed on, and Lawrence Peabody maintained his watch. He was in no danger of going to sleep, feeling too timid and nervous. He began to feel a little more comfortable. He could see nothing suspicious, and hear nothing except the deep breathing of his sleeping comrades.
"It is not so bad as I expected," he muttered to himself.
He began to feel a little self-complacent, and to reflect that he had underrated his own courage. He privately reflected that he was doing as well as any of his predecessors in duty. He began to think that after he had got back to Boston with a fortune, gained in California, he could impress his friends with a narrative of his night-watch on the distant prairies. But his courage had not yet been tested.
He took out his watch to see how time was passing.
It pointed to twelve o'clock.