CHAPTER XXXV. 



A THIEF OF THE NIGHT. 



THE African night wore on. Its mildness was such that there was no need ol 

 protection, nor of the fire that had been kindled for cooking purposes and 

 kept going because of the cheerful appearance it gave to everything. 



So long as it blazed and crackled, the friends could see each others' faces, 

 and you who have not been similarly placed cannot realize the pleasure of meet- 

 ing the kindly countenance of a friend whenever you turn your eyes in a certain 

 direction. 



The moon had grown to proportions that afforded considerable light, so much 

 so, indeed, that the hunters felt safe from the lions that would have been on hand 

 except for the orb of night 



But a single fire was burning, and that did not throw out a strong area of illu- 

 mination. Horses, cattle and goats had been gathered in secure quarters, and 

 everything made snug for the night. There was some apprehension that the cap- 

 tured animals in the stockade might be looked upon as legitimate prey by prowl- 

 ing wild beasts, but in such an event, before the marauders could tear down the 

 stakes, the prisoners would be sure to give notice of their danger, and the defenders 

 could rally to their defense. 



Orak was recovering so rapidly that he insisted on keeping company with his 

 friends and in taking his part as sentinel. His comrades did not object, for, as you 

 will see, it produced a slight but perceptible lightening of their own labors. 



It fell to the duty of Jack Harvey and Mr. Godkin to keep guard the first half 

 of the night, with the two natives, Wart and Adz, as their assistants. They com- 

 pelled the latter to keep moving about, so as to prevent themselves falling asleep, 

 but the Americans were confident of their own ability to keep awake while sitting 

 by the fire, smoking their pipes. 



Bob and Dick became so drowsy, despite their interest in the narratives of Jack 

 Harvey and Mr. Godkin, that they bade them good evening and retired. 



You would think that the experiences they had gone through during the day 

 would have kept them awake. So they would, had that been their first night in the 

 African wilderness, but you know how readily we can become used to any danger. 

 Soldiers will lie down and slumber on the battle-field, though not until they have 

 become accustomed, in some degree, to its horrors. 



And thus it was that Bob Marshall and Dick Brownell, after a prayer of thank- 

 fulness to God for his mercies, and a plea for the continuance of them to themselvei 

 and their friends on the other side of the world, sank into a slumber as sweet and 

 refreshing as any they had ever known in childhood at home. 



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