Chasing the Sun

by R. M. Ballantyne

“I couldn’t hold my eyes open five minutes longer to save my life,” muttered Sam, as he rolled over into the other.

In a minute the three friends began to breathe heavily. Two minutes more and they were snoring, a trio in happy forgetfulness of all their toils.

Now, it must be told that this pleasant state of things did not last long. Fred Temple and Sam Sorrel were not the only occupants of these beds. Truth, however disagreeable, must be revealed. There were living creatures which not only slept in those beds, but which dwelt there when perfectly wide awake; and these creatures waged unceasing war with every human being that lay down beside them. In a very short time the sleepers found this out. Fred began to grow restless and to groan. So did Sam. In the course of an hour or so Fred uttered a fierce exclamation, and rose on his hands and knees. So did Sam. Then Fred and Sam began to fight—not with each other, but—with the common enemy.

The battle raged for more than an hour, during which the foe, although frequently routed, returned again and again to the charge. Their courage and determination were tremendous. It cannot be said that Fred and Sam were actually put to flight, but a regard for truth compels me to state that they continued fleaing the greater part of that morning, and it was not until the sun was high in the heavens—pouring down a flood of light into that wild glen—that they gained the victory, and lay down to repose on their laurels and straw—not to mention the bodies of the dead and dying!

They hoped now to be rewarded for their exertions with a few hours’ repose. Vain hope! Scarcely had they closed their eyes when the door opened, and an old woman, with nose and chin of the nutcracker type, entered the room. This was the grandmother of the family; she had come to look at the strangers.

Grant’s face, with the eyes shut and the mouth wide-open, was the first object that met her view. She bent over him and looked into his mouth, as if anxious to examine his teeth. Having looked him over, and felt the quality of his clothes with her shrivelled fingers, she turned to the beds and stared at the other strangers.

Fred had gone off into a sort of doze, so he bore the inspection well, but Sam was only pretending to sleep, and when he peeped up at the old face that looked down on his with kindly interest and curiosity, he found it difficult to check a smile.

Having looked at them well, and touched everything belonging to them, to see what it could be made of, the old woman moved quietly towards the door. She shut it with a bang, however, and roused them up with a start—excepting Grant, who slept through everything, and in spite of everything.

They were just dropping off again when the old woman returned. She had forgotten something, and was moving across the floor, when she accidentally knocked over a bench, which upset a heavy stool. The crash was followed by a scream of alarm, and once more the sleepers were awakened—always excepting Grant. Scarcely had this happened when a strange sound was heard outside. It gradually became louder and more alarming.

“What can it be?” cried Fred, leaping out of bed, and rushing to the door. As he threw it open, there was a roar like the sudden discharge of artillery, and at the same moment a huge mass of rock, many tons in weight, bounded close past the door, went crashing through a wooden shed as if it had been a sheet of paper, and, carrying shrubs and small trees along with it, finally found a resting-place at the bottom of the glen. The huge mass had fallen from the cliffs above, and fortunately swept through the hamlet without doing further damage. It was followed by a shower of smaller stones, some of which struck and shook the house, and produced a commotion that caused even Grant to wake up and run out in alarm.