Rob groaned.
“Forget! I wish I could. I shall dream of it all night. If I have the nightmare, Evan, please wake me up.”
“You have something that sounds like a nightmare about every night,” answered Evan dryly. “You’re lucky you didn’t get in here with him, Malcolm. He’s the noisiest brute when he’s asleep I ever heard.”
“I don’t believe it!” said Rob indignantly. “I never hear a sound!”
“Because you’re making too much noise.”
“He’s probably inventing things in his sleep,” Malcolm laughed from the doorway. “Good-night.”
“Good-night. By the way, Doc says we must be careful about fires up there, because things are so dry. Guess he’s afraid you’ll burn the old mountain down, Mal. Well, see you in the morning.”
When morning came, and when Evan, after lying half awake for a time with the consciousness of being disagreeably chilly, finally dropped himself on his elbow and glanced toward the windows, it seemed that the weather didn’t approve of the expedition, for the morning world was gray and damp and cold. The wind was blowing out of the east and a thin fog drifted in from the bay. Evan fumbled for his watch and found that it was time to get up. But the idea of arising in his pajamas and putting down the window didn’t appeal to him, so he huddled himself under the blanket again and called to Rob.
“O Rob! Time to get up!”