To make arrangements for the night occupied but a short time; and soon, wrapped in a blanket of Winkle's, Blaze was wooing
"Sleep that knits up the raveled sleeve of care,
The death of each day's life, sore labor's bath,
Chief nourisher in life's feast,"
while silence and darkness reigned around.
CHAPTER V.
THE SCREAM AT NIGHT.
How long Blaze had been slumbering he could scarcely have even guessed; but suddenly, and without any assignable cause, he found himself wide awake. He looked around; he listened. He saw nothing but dim shadows, heard nothing but the regular breathing of the two sleepers by his side. Yet his first thought was of danger. He was accustomed to premonitions. Men who live in an atmosphere of peril meet with them, understand them, act on them.
He leisurely and thoughtfully unrolled himself from his blanket and arose to his feet. "Most durn queer," he soliloquized, turning his eyes in every direction. "This old hoss's narves must be gittin' weak, er thar's sumthin' wrong a-brewin'. Don't often feel this here way; last time I did was t'other night, when the copper-bellies was a-cumin' in onto us without words er warnin'. I'll jist scout around a bit, an' see if enny thing's broke loose."