His fears relieved, Sandy’s sense of humor cropped out. He could not resist playing a good joke on his chum.
Sandy thought a moment, then hit upon an idea, which he quickly put into execution. The fire had gone out, and Sandy’s scheme was no other than to rebuild it so close to Dick that it would sizzle the sleeping lad’s chin.
Soon Sandy had the fire crackling and snapping within two feet of Dick’s face, as he lay on the pine needles where he had fallen over during the night.
Setting about breakfast, Sandy chuckled as he watched Dick begin to squirm and mutter in his sleep as the heat reached him.
At last Dick turned over, and flinging out one hand, almost plunged it into the fire. Sandy cried out sharply, and jumped forward to keep Dick’s hand out of the fire, when his chum leaped up wide awake.
“What! How——” Dick stammered, blinking his eyes.
Sandy doubled up with laughter. Dick soon saw the joke and joined Sandy in a hearty laugh. Then he quickly grew serious.
“That’s the worst thing I could have done,” Dick accused himself. “Suppose Henderson’s men had crept up on us while I was asleep. Sandy, I’ll never forgive myself for this. I can’t blame them for shooting soldiers that sleep on guard duty—after tonight.”
“Oh, never mind,” Sandy’s optimism came to the front. “What’s the difference. We’re safe and sound, aren’t we?”
“That doesn’t excuse me for neglecting my duty,” Dick insisted. But as he reached for the tin plate of bacon and camp bread that Sandy handed him, Dick cheered up. “What beats me,” he concluded, “is that I was going to let you sleep till morning, Sandy. Guess I wasn’t as tough as I thought I was.”