Once more his mind turned to the problem of the wheat. What was it that he had just concluded? Oh, yes, Timmie! Why might not Timmie have camped here and planted this wheat? But twelve years? How had he lived? Whence had come the seed wheat? There were a hundred questions connected with such a solution. Ah, well, morning would tell. There would be a cabin somewhere on the edge of the field and they would eat. Eat? For the first time Bruce realized that he had not eaten for hours; was very hungry. Securing some malted-milk tablets, carried for emergency rations, he dissolved them in his mouth. A wonderfully soothing effect they had. Propping himself against the trees, he closed his eyes for a second, and before he could pry them open again, he, too, was fast asleep.
When he awoke it was broad daylight and his companions were already astir.
"Did you fellows wake up last night?" he asked, rubbing his eyes sleepily.
Barney and the Major shook their heads.
"Then you didn't see it?"
"See what?"
"The white thing."
Barney stared. The Major's face was noncommittal.
Bruce told them of his experience.
"He's been seeing a ghost," declared Barney, with a laugh.