ome a remnant of black ends and
soggy ash. I was not overhot as I lay, and I had a conviction that I
should be less so outside the sleeping-bag, provided always that I could
extricate myself from that somewhat clinging, confining envelope.
Neither was there any immediate prospect of breakfast--nobody to talk
to--no place to go. I had an impulse to arouse Eddie for the former
purpose, but there was something about that heap of canvas and blankets
across the way that looked dangerous. I had never seen him roused in his
forest lair, and I suspected that he would be savage. I concluded to
proceed cautiously--in some manner which might lead him to believe that
the fall of a drifting leaf or the note of a bird had been his summons.
I worked one arm free, and reaching out for one of my shoes--a delicate
affair, with the soles filled with splices for clambering over the
rocks--I tossed it as neatly as possible at the irregular bunch
opposite, aiming a trifle high. It fell with a solid, sickening thud,
and I shrank down into my bag, expecting an eruption. None came. Then I
was seized with the fear that I had killed or maimed Eddie. It seemed
necessary to investigate.

I took better aim this time and let go with the other shoe.

"Eddie!" I yelled, "are you dead?"

There was a stir this time and a deep growl. It seemed to take the form
of words, at length, and I caught, or fancied I did, the query as to
what time it was; whereupon I laboriously fished up my watch and
announced in clear tones that the hand was upon the stroke of six. Also
that it was high time for children of the forest to bestir themselves.

At this there was another and a deeper growl, ending with a single
syllable of ominous sound. I could not be sure, but heard through the
folds of a sleeping-bag, the word sounded a good deal like hell and I
had a dim conviction that he was sending me there, perhaps realizing
that I was cold. Then he became unconscious again, and I had no more
shoes.

Yet my efforts had not been without effect. There was a nondescript stir
in the guides' tent, and presently the head of Charles, sometimes called
the Strong, protruded a little and was withdrawn. Then that of Del, the
Stout, appeared and a little later two extraordinary semi-amphibious
figures issued--wordless and still rocking a little with sleep--and with
that deliberate precision born of long experience went drabbling after
fuel and water that the morning fire might kindle