Nugget hesitated and passed his hand over his forehead.
"Yes," he said reflectively; "I used to walk in my sleep sometimes, but that was long ago. I thought the habit was broken."
"Don't you remember anything about this affair?" resumed Ned. "You must have taken Randy's gun and left the tent without waking us."
"Yes; I have a sort of recollection of it," answered Nugget sheepishly. "I guess I must have been dreaming. I thought I was in Central Park at home, and the animals broke out of the menagerie. I had a gun in my hand, and when a big lion ran after me I ran away. Then I fell over a bench and the gun went off—and—and I don't think I remember any more. It was an awful dream. I thought the lion would eat me up."
This story was more than the boys could stand. They laughed so long and heartily that Nugget recovered from his scare and got angry instead.
"You fellows would laugh the other way if that gun had been pointed toward the tent when it went off," he said sullenly; "and besides there is no fun in having such a dream."
"Nugget is right," exclaimed Ned. "The affair is too serious for ridicule. It's almost a miracle he was not shot. And by the way, Randy, I've told you often not to keep that gun loaded. Think what might have happened to-night in consequence of your folly."
Randy looked penitent, and for a wonder accepted the rebuke quietly.
"I forgot, Ned, indeed I did," he said earnestly. "I put a shell in for snipe this afternoon, and never thought about it again. After this I'll examine the gun every night."
"If it was accidental that alters the case," replied Ned. "And now suppose we turn in. There is no use in standing here in the rain any longer."