urally into the places they were to occupy
through the coming weeks. The flat-topped bag with the apothecary stores
and other urgency articles went at the upper end of the little footway,
and made a sort of table between our beds. Another bag went behind his
pillow, which he made as he had made mine, though he topped it off with
a little rubber affair which he inflated while I made another mental
memorandum for next year. A third bag----

But I did not see the fate of the third bag. A haze drifted in between
me and the busy little figure that was placing and pulling and folding
and arranging--humming a soothing ditty meantime--and I was swept up
bodily into a cloud of sleep.

Chapter Seven

_Now, Dawn her gray green mantle weaves_
_To the lilt of a low refrain--_
_The drip, drip, drip of the lush green leaves_
_After a night of rain._

Chapter Seven

The night was fairly uneventful. Once I imagined I heard something
smelling around the camp, and I remember having a sleepy curiosity as to
the size and manner of the beast, and whether he meant to eat us and
where he would be likely to begin. I may say, too, that I found some
difficulty in turning over in my sleeping-bag, and that it did rain. I
don't know what hour it was when I was awakened by the soft thudding
drops just above my nose, but I remember that I was glad, for there had
been fires in the woods, and the streams were said to be low. I
satisfied myself that Eddie's patent, guaranteed perfectly waterproof
tent was not leaking unduly, and wriggling into a new position, slept.

It was dull daylight when I awoke. Through the slit in the tent I could
see the rain drizzling on the dead campfire. Eddie--long a guest of the
forest lost now in the multiple folds of his sleeping-bag--had not
stirred. A glimpse of the guides' tent opposite revealed that the flap
was still tightly drawn. There was no voice or stir of any living
creature. Only the feet of the rain went padding among the leaves and
over the tent.

Now, I am not especially given to lying in bed, and on this particular
morning any such inclination was rather less manifest than usual. I
wanted to spread myself out, to be able to move my arms away from my
body, to whirl around and twist and revolve a bit without so much
careful preparation and deliberate movement.

Yet there was very little to encourage one to get up. Our campfire--so
late a glory and an inspiration--had bec