"Gee! but you do beat the Dutch, Max," he muttered. "I honestly reckon you're hoping to make me doubt what my own eyes saw. But, anyhow, I'm game to stand it out to the end."
"Well, let's crawl in now with our blankets," suggested Max.
"What! don't we keep watch any more, or wake up one of the others to take our place?" Owen demanded.
"Stop and think; what's the use?" chuckled Max.
"Glory! that's so. The performance is over for this night, anyhow. Guess you're about right, Max; and I do sure feel mighty sleepy."
So both boys managed to find the places reserved for them under the canvas, and slipped in without disturbing their comrades.
Steve was rolled up in his blanket very much after the manner of a mummy. Max cast a sharp look that way, and even bent over Steve as he arranged himself in his rather cramped quarters.
"Seems to be sleeping as sound as a bug in a rug," was his mental comment, as he caught the even and natural breathing of the suspected chum.
The balance of the night passed away without any further alarm.
When morning came Toby and Bandy-legs took Max to task because he had not called on them to serve as sentinels over the camp.