Lawrence Peabody stared.

"I don't understand you, Mr. Fletcher," he said.

"If you have the headache, it will prevent you from going to sleep, and you remember you expressed yourself as afraid that you might. If you were quite well, I might feel rather afraid of leaving the camp in your charge. Now, I am sure you won't fall asleep."

Mr. Peabody listened in dismay. The very plan to which he had resorted in the hope of evading duty was likely to fasten that duty upon him.

"He'll be well before night," thought Fletcher shrewdly; and he privately imparted the joke to the rest of the party. The result was that Mr. Peabody became an object of general attention.

In half an hour the young man from Boston removed his handkerchief from his head.

"Are you feeling better, Mr. Peabody?" asked Tom.

"Very much better," said Peabody.

"Your headache seems to pa.s.s off suddenly."

"Yes, it always does," said the young Bostonian. "I am like mother in that. She had a delicate const.i.tution, just like mine. One minute she would have a headache as if her head would split open, and half an hour afterward she would feel as well as usual."

"You are very fortunate. I was afraid your headache would make it uncomfortable for you to watch to-night."

"Yes, it would; but, as the captain said, it would have kept me awake.

Now I don't believe I can keep from sleeping on my post."

"Why don't you tell Fletcher so?"

"Won't you tell him, Tom? He might pay more attention to it if you told him."

"No, Mr. Peabody. You are certainly the most suitable person to speak to him. What makes you think he would pay more attention to me, who am only a boy?"

"He seems to like you, Tom."

"I hope he does, but really, Mr. Peabody, you must attend to your own business."

Fletcher was at the head of the train, walking beside the first wagon.

Hearing hurried steps, he turned, and saw Mr. Lawrence Peabody, panting for breath.

"Have you got over your headache, Mr. Peabody?" he asked, with a quiet smile.

"Yes, Mr. Fletcher, it's all gone."

"I am glad to hear it."

"It would have kept me awake to-night, as you remarked," said Peabody.

"Now, I am really afraid that I shall fall asleep."

"That would be bad for you."

"Why so?"

"You remember those two poor fellows whom we found scalped the other day?"

"I shall never forget them," said Lawrence Peabody, with a shudder.

"Better think of them to-night. If you go to sleep on watch, those very Indians may serve you in the same way."

"Oh, good gracious!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Peabody, turning pale.

"They or some of their tribe are, no doubt, near at hand."

"Don't you think you could excuse me, Mr. Fletcher?" stammered Peabody, panic-stricken.

"No!" thundered Fletcher, so sternly that the unhappy Bostonian shrank back in dismay.

For the credit of Boston, it may be said that John Miles--a broad-shouldered young giant, who did not know what fear was--more honorably represented the same city.

CHAPTER XXV.

A NIGHT PANIC.

Lawrence Peabody's feelings when night approached were not unlike those of a prisoner under sentence of death. He was timid, nervous, and gifted with a lively imagination. His fears were heightened by the sad spectacle that he had recently witnessed. His depression was apparent to all; but I regret to say that it inspired more amus.e.m.e.nt than sympathy.

Men winked at each other as they saw him pa.s.s; and, with the exception of Tom and his Scotch friend, probably n.o.body pitied the poor fellow.

"He's a poor creature, Tom," said Donald Ferguson; "but I pity him. We wouldn't mind watching to-night; but I doubt it's a terrible thing to him."

"I would volunteer in his place, but Mr. Fletcher won't agree to it,"

said Tom.

"He is right. The young man must take his turn. He won't dread it so much a second time."

"What would the poor fellow do if he should see an Indian?"

"Faint, likely; but that is not probable."

"Mr. Fletcher thinks there are some not far off."

"They don't attack in the night, so I hear."

"That seems strange to me. I should think the night would be most favorable for them."

"It's their way. Perhaps they have some superst.i.tion that hinders."

"I am glad of it, at any rate. I can sleep with greater comfort."

The rest were not as considerate as Tom and Ferguson. They tried, indeed, to excite still further the fears of the young Bostonian.