‘But we ain’t goin’ ter let them ketch us,’ said Ephraim. ‘Ye see, we’re a heap better off than we war this mornin’ or this afternoon, for we know the countersign, and ef with thet we don’t manage ter slip past their sentries, it’s a wonder. All the same, though,’ he went on, ‘we may ez well take a couple er hours’ rest. I’m about done, I own up ter thet, and I should say thet you wouldn’t be the worse fer it.’
‘Considering that I had four hours’ sleep this afternoon, thanks to you,’ answered Lucius, ‘I’m not so bad. I could eat something, though; so if you’ll produce the ham, we’ll lay the table.’
Ephraim laughed, and opening his coat, extracted the wedge of ham which he had carried there since the morning, and which, whatever it might have been at first, did not look very inviting now. However, hunger is the best sauce, and nearly dark as it was, the dishevelled appearance of the ham did not count against it; so between it and the biscuits the two boys made a very hearty meal, chatting merrily all the while, as if they had not a care in the world.
‘Now,’ said Lucius, when they had finished, ‘I feel as fresh as a daisy. You lie down and sleep for the first hour, and I’ll keep watch.’
‘Air ye shore ye kin hold out?’ asked Ephraim, who did indeed feel terribly sleepy.
‘Certain. Lie down, old Grizzly. I’ll wake you when I think the hour is up.’
Ephraim took off his coat, and making a pillow of it, went to sleep almost instantly, so worn out was he; while Lucius, going to the mouth of the cave, sat down and looked over the river into the night.
It was almost dark, for the sky had clouded over, and every now and then a few drops of rain fell, but the soft light of the summer night prevailed to some extent, and Lucius, who could see the outlines of the steep heights across the river, fell to picturing the battle which had been waged beyond them that day, and wondering which side had gained the victory. He lost himself in his musings for a quarter of an hour, and then fumbled mechanically for his watch. ‘I wonder if the hour is up,’ he said to himself; ‘I’m beginning to feel drowsy now. Oh, I forgot. I left it at home.’
The word gave his thoughts a new turn, and in fancy he saw his mother grieving over his absence, and despairing of ever seeing him again. The idea distressed him, and presently conscience began to add her stings, and strive as he would to excuse his disobedience, his mood grew gloomier and gloomier. ‘I hate the dark,’ he muttered; ‘it always makes me feel so lonesome. Surely the hour must be up.’