“Oh, go to sleep!” advised Tom, and, turning over, he was soon breathing heavily and regularly, indicating that he, at least, had taken his own advice.
Ned, too, finally succumbed to the overpowering weariness of the first day of travel, and he, too, slept, though it was an uneasy slumber, disturbed by a feeling as though some one were holding a heavy black quilt over his head, preventing him from breathing.
The feeling, sensation or dream — whatever it was — perhaps a nightmare — became at last so real to Ned that he struggled himself into wakefulness. With an effort he sat up, uttering an inarticulate cry. To his surprise he was answered. Some one asked:
“What is the matter?”
“Who — who are you?” asked Ned quickly, trying to peer through the darkness.
“This is Jacinto — your guide,” was the soft answer. “I was walking about camp and, hearing you murmuring, I came to your tent. Is anything wrong?”
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For a moment Ned did not answer. He listened and could tell by the continued heavy and regular breathing of his chum that Tom was still asleep.
“Are you in our tent?” asked Ned, at length.
“Yes,” answered Jacinto. “I came in to see what was the matter with you. Are you ill?”
“No, of course not,” said Ned, a bit shortly. “I — I had a bad dream, that was all. All right now.”
“For that I am glad. Try to get all the sleep you can, for we must start early to avoid the heat of the day,” and there was the sound of the guide leaving and arranging the folds of the mosquito net behind him to keep out the night-flying insects.