r passed.

"I say," murmured Valentine, "this ground seems precious hard!"

"Yes," answered his companion. "I've tried lying on it every way, and
I believe my bones are coming through my skin."

A long pause, and then, "I say, don't you think it's nearly morning?"

"Oh, no! the church clock has only just struck one."

The darkness seemed to lengthen out into that of a polar winter instead
of a single night. At length the canvas walls began to grow grey with
dawn, and Jack awoke with a shiver, wondering whether he had really
been asleep or not.

"It's beastly cold," he muttered.

"Yes," answered Valentine. "I thought it was never going to get light.
Look here, I'm determined I _will_ sleep! What's the good of my being
a soldier if I can't sleep in a tent?"

He turned over on his face, and had just dropped off into a doze, when
he was awakened by Jack, who had reached over and was shaking his arm.

"I say--Val--who was that?"

"Who's what?" was the drowsy answer.

"Why! didn't you hear? Some one just walked down the path. It can't
be Jakes; it isn't five o'clock."

Valentine rubbed his eyes, thought for a moment, and then suddenly sat
up broad awake.

"The pears!" he whispered.

Both boys sprang up, unlaced the door of the tent, and sallied forth in
the direction of the fruit garden.

"Don't make a row; walk on the grass border. Hist! there he is!"

There he was, sure enough; a boy about their own age, calmly picking
pears and dropping them into a basket. Jack and Valentine slowly crept
down by the side of the raspberry bushes, like Indians on a war-trail.

"Now then!" murmured the former, "charge!"

The thief jumped as if a gun had been fired off behind him, and started
to run, but before he could reach the path he was fairly collared. He
struggled violently, and then commenced to kick, whereupon his arm was
suddenly twisted behind his back, a style of putting on the curb-rein
with which fractious small boys will be well acquainted.

"Woa! steady now, 'oss!" said Jack facetiously. "Keep your feet quiet,
or I shall put the screw on a bit tighter. Now then, what shall we do
with him?"

"Put him into the tool shed," answered Valentine.

The culprit, finding himself fairly mastered, became more docile. His
captors, however, turned a deaf ear to his pleadings to be let go; and
thrusting him into the little outhouse, turned the key in the lock, and
then began to wonder what they should do