Twilight came, and a brief interval of darkness, and then the glow of the rising moon. For mile after mile the little band pressed on, heedless of hunger and weariness, and it was close to midnight when their leader halted them on a far-stretching plateau high up among the mountains, sparsely timbered with pine and oak.
"Here we'll spend what little of the night is left, bein' as we're all done out," declared Barnabas. "I know the spot. Wyoming is but six or eight miles off, an' we'll make it afore to-morrow noon. Now for supper an' rest."
Rations were served out and eaten, and then Barnabas divided the night into three watches and assigned the men to duty. Reuben Atwood's turn came first, and the soft step of the sentry was the last sound the weary men heard as they fell asleep on the fragrant pine needles.
Nathan slumbered for hours, too fatigued even to dream, and then he suddenly opened his eyes and sat up, barely able to repress a cry. A small snake glided from his side, and he knew that the cold touch of the reptile on his hand had wakened him.
His companions were sleeping around him, but he saw nothing of the sentry. Looking further his eyes rested on an open glade, bathed in moonlight, that was twenty feet away among the trees. Cold perspiration started on his brow, and he trembled from head to foot. His breath came quick and hard. Was it a real or a ghostly visitant—that slim figure standing in the centre of the glade; that familiar face staring toward him, with its every feature clear in the moon's silver glow?
[CHAPTER VIII]
IN WHICH SIMON GLASS MAKES A VERY STRANGE REMARK
Little wonder that the lad shivered; that cold sweat started on cheeks and brow; that, at first, he knew not whether he was awake or dreaming! For the face in the moonlight was Godfrey Spencer's, and so were the step and figure as the intruder crept stealthily nearer.
The camp was in deep shadow, and Nathan himself could not be seen. For a few seconds he watched and trembled in mute horror, unable to utter a sound. "I am not asleep," he decided, feeling the night breeze on his hot temples. "Am I going mad? That can't be Godfrey. Yes, it is—"