"He's slept long enough, I reckon," declared the brown man. "Let's have a look at him. Hey, kid!"
Cold Feet quivered, but seemed lost in a profound sleep. Cartwright reached for a small stone and juggled it in the palm of his hand.
"This'll surprise him," he chuckled.
"Better not," murmured Sinclair.
"Why not?"
"Might land on his face and hurt him."
"It won't hurt him bad. Besides, kids ought to learn not to sleep in the daytime. Ain't a good idea any way you look at it. Puts fog in the head."
He poised the stone.
"You might hit his eye, you see," said Sinclair.
"Leave that to me!"