“Well, just let me try it a while,” sez Horace.
“I’m feared to,” sez Tank, beginnin’ to weaken. “If you was to start, an’ I was to fall asleep, an’ you was to quit, I might dream ’at you was that unobligin’ man which betrayed me back in the lonely shack; an’ I might strangle you or somethin’ before I came to my senses. Nope, the best plan is just to sit an’ chat here till daylight. My nerves is allus better after sun-up.”
“I don’t think I can stay awake much longer,” sez Horace, almost whimperin’.
“What?” sez Tank in surprise. “You claim to have nerves, an’ yet you can talk o’ fallin’ asleep at this time o’ night. Great Scott, man, you ain’t got no nerves! You are as flebmatic as a horn toad. Oh, I wish I could just fall sleepy for one minute.”
“Let me try rubbin’ your brow,” sez Horace, whose eyes were blinkin’ for sleep, but whose face was all screwed up into lines of worry at what was goin’ to happen to him after he had finally give in an’ drifted off.
“Well,” sez Tank, “I’ll let you try; but if you’re already sleepy, I doubt if any good comes of it. You sit there at the head o’ the bed, an’ I’ll lay my head in your lap, an’ you rub my brow soft an’ gentle. If I do get to sleepin’ natural, why o’ course the’ won’t be no harm done in you takin’ a few winks; but for the love o’ peace, don’t sleep sound.”
I blame near choked while they were gettin’ settled, ’cause Horace was one o’ those finicky cusses, an’ Tank’s head looked like a moth-eaten buffalo robe. Finally, however, Tank stretched out with the covers up around his neck an’ his head pillowed in Horace’s lap, and then Horace began to rub his brow as soft an’ gentle as he knew how.
“You don’t do it clingy enough,” sez Tank. “You want to just rest your fingers lightly, but still have ’em draw along so ’at they’ll give a little tingle. There, that’s better. Now then, I’ll lay as quiet as I can, an’ try to go to sleep.” Tank was doin’ such an earnest job, he had plumb fooled himself into believin’ it was mostly true.
He gave a start after layin’ quiet for five or ten minutes, an’ this put Horace on edge again; but Tank didn’t wake up. Horace had a saddle blanket around his shoulders; and the last I saw just before I fell asleep, myself, was Horace gently rubbin’ Tank’s brow, an’ lookin’ down careful for a change of expression. They made a curious sight with the firelight back of ’em.
It was grayin’ up for the dawn next time I woke up; and I’d had my sleep out, but when I stuck my nose out from under the tarp, I found it purty tol’able frosty. I knew it was my duty to roust out an’ keep Horace from gettin’ more sleep ’n my treatment for his nerves called for; but I was too comfortable, to pay much heed to the still, small voice of duty. At the same time I was curious to see what my boon comrades was up to, so I stretched my neck an’ took a look at ’em.