feet in front of them, sitting on the ground, with his hands
clasped around his knees, and his rifle resting on his arm.
Henry watched him idly for a little while, thinking all the time
of his lost comrades. The night promised to be dark, a good
thing for them, as the need of hiding was too evident.

Shif'less Sol soon fell asleep, as Henry, only three feet away,
knew by his soft and regular breathing, but the boy himself was
still wide-eyed.

The darkness seemed to sink down like a great blanket dropping
slowly, and the area of Henry's vision narrowed to a small
circle. Within this area the distinctive object was the figure
of Tom Ross, sitting with his rifle across his knees. Tom had an
infinite capacity for immobility. Henry had never seen another
man, not even an Indian, who could remain so long in one position
contented and happy. He believed that the silent one could sit
as he was all night.

His surmise about Tom began to have a kind of fascination for
him. Would he remain absolutely still? He would certainly shift
an arm or a leg. Henry's interest in the question kept him
awake. He turned silently on the other side, but, no matter how
intently he studied the sitting figure of his comrade, he could
not see it stir. He did not know how long he had been awake,
trying thus to decide a question that should be of no importance
at such a time. Although unable to sleep, be fell into a dreamy
condition, and continued vaguely to watch the rigid and silent
sentinel.