unted Jim.

"Dreaming nothing!" cried Phil, brushing his face. "Something as big
as a horse ran over my cheek."

"Lie down then and cover up your head. It'll be all right."

Phil was not so easily satisfied. He struck a match and looked about
him.

"See that!" he whispered. As Jim jumped up in response, several
shadowy forms scurried off in various directions. The match burned to
Phil's fingers and spluttered out, as Phil swore and sucked his
injured digits.

"Deevils!" whispered Jim eerily.

"Rats!" exclaimed Phil, striking another match and groping for the
lamp.

"Better than bugs!" said Jim philosophically.

"Oh, you wait!" retorted Phil. "The bugs haven't found out yet that
we're here. You'll make acquaintance with them later."

Jim shivered.

"Man,--I detest bugs, though! I wouldn't wonder if you are right too;
the place had a musty smell; besides, that wily duck of a civilized
chink would be living here if there wasn't something wrong." He
shivered again. "They give me the grue. I can feel the darned little
brutes already."

"Oh, forget it!" said Phil. "Whoever heard of a calculating,
sober-minded, creepy bug coming out on a night like this and scaring
you away before you're right settled down. Bugs have more sense than
that, Jim."

Langford curled himself up in small compass, covered his head over
with the blankets and dozed off again.

Phil rose, took his twenty-two rifle from his pack and set it
alongside the bed. He put a light to the lamp, got into bed again and
turned the light down to a peep. He lay quietly watching the hole in
the corner of the roof over by the foot of the bed.

The lamplight reflected suddenly from two tiny beads at the edge of
the hole. Phil reached cautiously for his rifle, raised it, aimed
carefully and fired. Something fell on the floor with a thud.

Jim sprang up in alarm.

"Good heavens, man!--what's up?" he cried.

"Oh, go to sleep!" answered Phil. "I've just shot one of your bugs."

"Shoot away then," retorted Jim, "but please remember they're not _my_
bugs."

In a few minutes more, Phil shot again, and another victim thumped to
the floor. Half a dozen times this happened at intervals, until
Jim--unable to get any sleep--grew faintly interested in the sport and
volunteered to take a turn while Phil crept under the blankets for
warmth.

It was only when morning began to dawn that the two got down to an
honest hour's slumber.

When they rose, thirty-si