Bob was too tired to reply. Under cover of the trees the three threaded their way back to the spot where they had left their provisions concealed, and there, making sure that no alarm had been raised in the fort, they sat down to their breakfast. Bob had no appetite. He forced himself to eat, for he knew not what further trial of endurance might be before him; then, feeling the need of sleep, he lay down behind a spreading bush, and bade the other two keep watch in turn. The day passed alternately in sleeping and in discussing the situation. Neither Ah-Sam nor Sing-Cheng had any suggestion to offer. The former stolidly adhered to his opinion that nothing was possible. The latter said in effect, "Don’t ask me to plan. Tell me what to do, and I will do it." Bob got neither help nor comfort from them. The stock of food was rapidly diminishing. The two Chinamen ate without sparing; and if only for this reason, either something must be done at once or they must all return on their tracks. The sense of his powerlessness stung Bob like a goad. At one moment he was on the point of giving up; then with the thought of Kobo in the power of Chang-Wo came a fresh spurt of determination. All through the day fits of despair alternated with renewed efforts to solve the difficulty, until his mood of nervous irritability was almost past enduring. Ah-Sam and the chief talked constantly in low whispers, and with such solemn looks of concern that Bob felt they would help him if they could. It occurred to him once to ask them what point they were discussing so gravely, and he could have knocked their heads together in sheer vexation when Ah-Sam replied: "My tellum Sing-Cheng littee pussy boilum stew, makee numpa one topside chow-chow. Hai yah!" At last, thoroughly worn out with the strain, as darkness sank over the hills Bob fell into an uneasy sleep. It was crowded with dreams—of recent happenings, of his school-days, of his childhood among the Cumbrian dales. He turned restlessly from side to side, sometimes muttering, sometimes calling to his friends, giving his two companions, as they in turn took watch, matter for wonder and concern. At last he found himself on his back, with eyes wide open, staring up into the starlit void, his pulse beating furiously, his nerves aquiver. He had awoke at a moment when in his dream a terrible accident was on the point of happening. The scene was the school gymnasium. He was swinging on one of the ropes of the giant-stride, and seemed to have worked up a velocity only to be obtained in dreamland. On the next rope before him swung his chum, and he felt that some demon of speed was whirling him down upon the boy, with such force that he must inevitably do him serious hurt. Only by his own agility and muscular strength was the injury averted; and he woke trembling from the nightmare—to a scene of absolute peace beneath the clear cold stars.