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His wonder lasted only until noon, when the sun waspoised directly overhead, and the open spaces were full ofits rays. Then, as light as the beasts themselves hadbeen, two Comanches walked into full view. BillBreakstone was as still as ever, but his hand lay upon thetrigger of the rifle.
The Comanches were not a pleasant sight to eyes thatdid not wish to see them. They were powerful men, naked save for the waist cloth, their bodies painted withmany strange symbols and figures. Although most oftheir tribe were yet armed with bows and arrows, eachcarried a fine rifle. Their faces were wary, cunning, and cruel. They were far more to be dreaded than wolfor panther. Yet Bill Breakstone at that moment felt butlittle fear of either. He was upheld by a great stimulus.The boy who slept so peacefully by his side had savedhim in the face of everything, and, if the time had come,he would do as much for Phil. He felt himself, with therifle and pistol, a match for both warriors, and hisbreathing was steady and regular.
The warriors stopped and stood in the bush, talkingand pointing toward the east. Bill Breakstone surmisedthat they were talking about him and Phil, and it waslikely from their pointing fingers that they believed thefugitives had gone toward the east. As Bill watchedthem, his suspense was mingled with a sort of curiosity.Would some instinct warn them that Phil and he lay notten yards away? The woods were vast, and they and alltheir comrades could not search every spot. Would thisbe one of the spots over which they must pass?
It took two minutes to decide the question, and thenthe warriors walked on toward the east, their brownbodies disappearing in the foliage. Bill drew a mightybreath that came from every crevice and cranny of hislungs. He did not know until then how great hissuspense had been. He sank back a little and let the riflerest softly on the leaves beside him. He glanced atPhil. His face was less drawn now, and much of thecolor had come back. While Bill awaited the crisis, hisfinger on the trigger, the sleeping boy had grown stronger.Bill decided that he would let him sleep on.
Bill Breakstone had been through much. He, too, began to feel sleepy. The dangers of animal and manhad come and passed, leaving his comrade and himuntouched. His nerves were now subdued and relaxed, and he felt a great physical and mental peace. The day, too, was one calculated to soothe. The air was filled with; the mildness of early spring. A gentle wind blew, and theboughs and bushes rustled together, forming a sound thatwas strangely like a song of peace.
But Bill Breakstone was a man watchful, alert, asentinel full of strength and resolution. He would notsleep, no, not he, not while so much depended upon him, yet the song among the leaves was growing sweeter andgentler all the time. He had never felt such
a soothingquiet in all his life. The complete relaxation after somuch danger and tension was at hand, and it was hardfor one to watch the forest and be troubled about foeswho would no longer come. Yet he would remain awakeand keep faithful guard, and, as he murmured hisresolution for the fifth time, his drooping eyelids shut downentirely, and he slept as soundly as the boy who lay byhis side, his chest rising and falling as he breathed longand regularly.
Phil Bedford and Bill Breakstone slept all that afternoon.It was a mighty sleep, the great sleep followingcomplete mental and physical exhaustion, the sleep thatcomes at such times to strong, healthy beings, in whomthe co-ordination of brain, muscle, and nerve is complete.By some unconscious method of keeping time theybreathed in perfect unison, and the gentle wind, whichall the while was blowing through the leaves, kept timewith them, too. Thus the evening shortened. Hour byhour dropped into the sandglass of time. The two, rivals of the ancient seven of famous memory, slept on.Both the wolf and the puma, driven by curiosity, cameback. They crept a little nearer than before, but not toonear. They felt instinctively that the mighty sleepers, mightily as they slept, could yet be awakened, and thesmell of man contained a quality that was terrifying. Sothey went away, and, an hour after they were gone, thesame two Comanches, naked to the waist, paintedhideously in many symbols and decorations, and savage andcruel of countenance, came back in their places. ButBill Breakstone and Phil lay safe in the leaves under thebank, sleeping peacefully without dreams. So far as theComanches were concerned, they were a thousand milesaway, and presently the two warriors disappeared againin the depths of the forest, this time not to return.
Time went on. The two slept the great sleep soquietly that all the normal life of the woods about themwas resumed. Woodpeckers drummed upon the sides ofthe hollow trees, a red bird in a flash of flame shot amongthe boughs, quail scuttled in the grass, and a rabbithopped near. Midafternoon of a cloudless day came.The sun shot down its most brilliant beams, the wholeforest was luminous with light. The Comanches ceasedtheir search, confident that the fugitives were gone nowbeyond their overtaking, and returned to their villagesand other enterprises, but Breakstone and Phil slept theirgreat sleep.