et as many birds as we want. Now then,
sleep. I want rest badly, for I've had a long day and quite as much
anxiety as is good for any one man."

Chris thought the same as he lay there, rather sleepless now, after so
long an indulgence; and he thought a good deal too as he gazed up
through the window-opening at the great stars, a little feverish and
worried about his part in the adventures.

"Could I have done any better than I did?" kept coming as a question
which remained unanswered when he dropped off to sleep, to begin
dreaming about the reproachful eyes of his pony for a time. Then all
was blank.

CHAPTER FORTY SEVEN.

COUNCILS OF WAR.

Chris awoke next morning to find his father standing over him.

"Well, my boy; better?"

Chris started up, uttered a squeak and screwed up his face with a laugh,
and fell back.

"How's my pony, father?"

"What was the matter?" said the doctor anxiously. "A pain anywhere
inside?"

"No, father, only I seem to hurt all over, I'm so sore. But how's my
pony?"

"Let the pony wait, boy. I want to be certain that you have no serious
hurt. Wait a minute. Let me try."

The doctor began his examination, and question after question came.
"Does that hurt?--Does this?--Now then, do you feel anything when I
press here--or there--or there?"

"Yes--yes--yes!" cried the boy petulantly, as he winced and started and
cried "Oh!" and "Ah!" and "I say, father!" and "Oh, please don't!"

"I must make sure, my boy."

"But I'm sure, father; won't that do?" cried the boy, in a tone of
remonstrance. "Of course all that hurts me; you pulled and pinched me
about so. I was as sore as sore all over before you began, and now I'm
ever so much worse."

"No, you're not, boy. You're all right. There's nothing broken.
You're bruised and strained, but that's all. You'll soon come right.
Sleep well?"

"Part of the time, father. The rest was all waste, and I lay there
feeling as if I ought to be keeping the watch, and thinking that some
one else ought to be sleeping who could."

"But you were sleeping soundly when I came."

"Of course, father. I wanted to make up for lost time."

"And you feel now as if you can't touch food?"

Chris stared.

"Are you saying that as a joke, father?"

"Certainly not. You feel as if you had no appetite?"

"That I don't, father. I feel as if I could eat anything."

"Nothing the matter at all but stiff. That will soon pass off."

"Then yo