going to waste their strength by
putting half of them out to watch the forest.

"No, no, I am no advocate for harassing my men."

"Good night, then," Ralph said, briefly, and he wrapped himself in
his cloak, and lay down.

"We are not accustomed to this sort of thing, Percy," he whispered
to his brother, in English, "and I don't like it. No wonder our
franc tireurs do so badly, if this is a sample of their
discipline."

"I don't like it either, Ralph. The Prussians are advancing; and if
that fellow last heard of them as ten miles off, they are as likely
as not to be only two. I shan't be sorry when morning comes."

"Nor I either, Percy. However, here we are, and we have no
authority over this fellow; so we must make the best of it, and
hope that--for once--folly will not have its just reward."

So saying, the boys remained silent for the night. But although
silent, neither of them slept much--Ralph especially, whose arm was
still very sore, and at times painful, hardly closed his eyes. He
told himself it was absurd, but he could not help listening, with
painful attention.

Had the night been a quiet one, he need not have strained his ears;
for as he knew, from the many hours he had passed at night upon
guard, the hush is so intense--in these great forests--that one can
hear the fall of a mountain stream, miles away; and the snapping of
a twig, or almost the falling of a leaf, will catch the ear. The
night, however, was windy; and the rustle of the pine forest would
have deadened all sound, except anything sharp, and near.

The sentry did not appear similarly impressed with the necessity
for any extraordinary attention. He was principally occupied in
struggling against cold, and drowsiness. He walked up and down, he
stamped his foot, hummed snatches of songs, yawned with great
vigor, and so managed to keep awake for two hours; when he roused
the next for duty, and lay down with a grunt of relief.

At last, after keeping awake for hours, Ralph dozed off. How long
he slept, he knew not; but he was roused into full wakefulness by a
touch on the shoulder, and by hearing Tim Doyle whisper:

"Hist, Mister Ralph, I've my doubts that there is something wrong.
I couldn't sleep, in this camp without watch or outposts; and for
the last quarter of an hour, I fancy I've been hearing noises. I
don't know which way they are coming, but it seems to me they are
all round us. I may be wrong, sir, but as sure as the piper--"