o
the hard breathing on both sides till all grew more and more subdued;
and though it was pitch dark the surroundings grew misty and strange,
and Syd lay listening to a strange sound which made him turn his head in
the direction of the door, towards where he could see a sturdily-built
young fellow down on his hands and knees, crawling in as easily as a
dog. Now he peered to one side, now to the other. Then he ran on all
fours under the hammocks, which seemed to stand out quite clearly with
their occupants therein. Then his head appeared, and it seemed, though
he could not make out the face, that it was Terry. But the head
disappeared again, and as Syd watched he felt that his hammock was the
object in view, and in his dread he started to find that all was
intensely dark and that he had been dreaming all this.

It was very hot, and there was heavy breathing all around, but not
another sound, so feeling once more that it would be impossible to
sleep, and that he might as well be on guard, Syd kept his vigil for
quite five minutes, and then, as was perfectly natural, went off fast
asleep again, to lie until it seemed to him that there was a crash of
thunder, and then all was blank.

"Here, hi! Sentry! Bring a lantern. It's a mean, cowardly act, and
I'll complain to the first lieutenant."

The roar of laughter which had been going on, mingled with comments,
ceased at this, and was succeeded by a low buzzing sound, which seemed
to Syd to be close to his ears as he saw a dim light, felt horribly
sleepy, and as if his head ached violently.

"It's too bad. The other was only a game. The poor fellow's head's cut
and bleeding, and whoever did this is a mean-spirited coward, and no
gentleman."

"Shall I go and rouse up the doctor, sir?"

"No; we'll bind it up, and keep it all quiet. There'd be no end of
trouble if the captain knew. I only wish I knew who did it, cutting a
fellow down by the head like this."

Syd tried to speak, but he was like one in a dream.

"If I knew who it was--" said Roylance.

"What would you do?" said a voice, which Syd seemed to recognise; "go
and tell his daddy?"

"No; I'd tell him he was a mean-spirited, cowardly hound," said
Roylance, "and not fit for the society of gentlemen."

"Hark at the bishop's boy, I dare say he did it himself."

"Just the sort of thing I should do!" replied Roylance, sharply. "More
likely one of Mike Terry's brutal tricks."

"Oh, very well, Master R