"Thank God, you're here!" cried that young man; "I was getting scared for you. What's up?"
"You are and I am," replied Bob. "Couldn't sleep, so I went for a walk. Think that bogy-man of yours had got me?"
"I surely began to."
"Nothing doing. I guess I can snooze a little now."
"I can't," complained Elliott. "You've got me good and waked up, confound you!"
Bob kicked off his boots, and without further disrobing rolled himself into his gray blanket. As he was dropping asleep two phrases flashed across his brain. They were: "compounding a felony," and "accessory after the fact."
"Don't feel much like a criminal either," murmured Bob to himself; and after a moment: "Poor devil!"
[a/]