"You should have hung him or shot him before he carried out this game," said Chumbley, rubbing away very softly, and evidently feeling a good deal of satisfaction as his reward. "It is to get me out of the way while he resumes his attentions to--you know," he cried, peevishly; "but he might have saved himself the trouble, for I've done." "He seems to have had an idea of going it wholesale," drawled Chumbley, "or else he wouldn't have brought me." "What shall we do now?" said Hilton, altering his position, for the numbing sensation was passing off. "As soon as ever I've done rubbing my legs," said Chumbley, "I'm going to have another cigar; and then if they don't bring us breakfast I shall have a nap, for I feel as if it would do Mr Chumbley good." "Chumbley, I haven't patience with you!" cried Hilton. "Not when you have pins and needles in your legs, dear boy; but have a weed to soothe you, and then you can philosophise over our trouble. Say, old chap." "What?" "No parade this morning--no drill. No anything to do at all but lie here and smoke. Hah! this is a nice one. Look out, old man. Catch!" To Hilton's annoyance his friend coolly took a cigar from his case, struck a light, and having ignited the end of his roll of tobacco-leaf, he pitched case and match-box to his friend, then lay back and smoked. For a few minutes Hilton gazed at him in an angry, disgusted manner; but the process of smoking looked so calming in its effects upon his friend, that he submitted to the desire to imitate him, and proceeded to light a cigar himself; but before he had been smoking many minutes, a regular hard breathing told him that Chumbley was dozing, and sure enough he was lying there, heedless of present trouble and that to come, his cigar tightly held between his teeth, and his breath coming and going, as he slept placidly and well. "I always thought Chumbley cool," muttered Hilton in an annoyed way; "but he really is the coolest fellow I ever met. Why, that villain may kill us to-morrow--to-day for what I know. Oh, it's monstrous! and all through that wretched, coquettish girl." "I hate myself!" he said, after a few minutes' pause. Why, he did not say, but he, too, lay back and indulged in his friend's bad habit, feeling gradually calmer and more at rest, especially as the furtive rub he gave from time to time at one or other of the places where the bonds had been was mollifying in its effect.