My young master stood in the doorway staring at the drowsy hens. Then his head began to droop. He leaned against the doorpost and little by little his young legs folded under him like tape, and he sank down, his head against the hard wood.
He was too sleepy to keep his eyes open any longer. When Cassowary came back she stared at him. "Upon my weary word, he's gone sleepy." Then she shook him. "Wake up and walk to bed."
He wouldn't budge and she looked round for help.
Her father was coming across the yard, and his eyes twinkled when he saw Dallas.
"Daughter," he said, "I warned you that the boy was dead tired."
"He's as sound as a drugged top," she replied.
Mr. Devering shook my young master slightly, then smiled as he heard a murmur from the half-open lips.
"What's he muttering in his sleep?" asked Cassowary.
"Over the mountain."