In five minutes we were all asleep. We were awakened hours later by a voice that meant business, shouting “Stop! Who’s there?”
Murray’s round, red face loomed above the front seat like the rising moon.
“Who’s there?” The Golfer took up the challenge.
We in the back seat trembled. Whoever was there had us at his mercy. We were entirely unarmed. Nobody answered, and in a few minutes we regained enough courage to ask questions in bated whispers.
“What did you see, Murray?”
“The burglar,” said Murray, looking bewildered. Then it dawned on us he had been having a nightmare, and we all breathed again.
“What time is it?” someone asked.
“One o’clock.” We looked at each other. The guide had been gone four hours.
“Had we better hunt for him?” asked Murray.
“Where could we go?” asked the Golfer.