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CHAPTER XL 



AN UNLUCKY DAY. 



If not accustomed to such things, you find it rather 

 strange, on awaking in the night, to hear — almost to 

 feel, so near it is to you — the continued patter of the 

 rain- drops on the shingle roof not many inches above 

 your cheek. As I turned in my warm bed, and wound 

 myself still deeper into the dense fragrant mass that 

 composed it, I heard the gentle falling of the rain just 

 above my face, and grumbling inwardly at the unfa- 

 vourable morrow it foretokened, again fell fast asleep. 



I should have been much better pleased had it 

 come down in a good shower, rattling on the shingles 

 as though about to shake them all to pieces, instead 

 of that dull, monotonous, sluggish drizzle, which might 

 continue any number of hours. The moment of half- 

 waking consciousness was just long enough for the dis- 

 contented thought. 



When I next woke it was at the sound of the quar- 

 ters which Solacher's repeater was chiming beside me. 

 Five and three-quarters — it's time to be off! So kick- 

 ing away the heap of hay with which each of us was 

 so comfortably covered, we crept down into the hut. 

 Unbolting the door, to let in the light, we put all in 

 order, replaced everything as we had found it, and 



