[Openquartz-general] ian, it may be suppose

[Wreede <ba...@cw...>]

Ep within five minutes, but he was never more wide awake in all his life
than he was two hours after he had lain down with the Indian blanket
wrapped about him, and his face toward the camp-fire. During that
period, so far as he was able to see, the Indian had not moved so much
as a muscle, and Jack himself had done very little more. Lying on his
right side, with his arm doubled under him for a pillow, the cumbrous
blanket enclosing him from head to foot, an irregular opening in front
of his face allowed him to peer through the folds at the camp-fire, the
oak, and the chieftain. The last still sat leaning slightly backward,
with his shoulders against the trunk, his arms folded over his knees,
while he seemed to be gazing off into vacancy. The heels of his
moccasins remained close against the thighs, so that the form of the
Indian bore quite a resemblance to the letter N. The flickering light
from the camp-fire disclosed as it did at first, the side and profile of
the chieftain. Gradually the flames sank lower and there came moments
when the sentinel was scarcely visible. Then, all at once, the fire
would flare up for a few seconds and the figure would be in brighter
relief than before. Again the eyes of Jack would rebel against the
extreme tension to which they were subjected. The Indian, instead of
remaining with his back against the oak, would seem to be hitching
forward and upward in the most grotesque fashion. After bumping about in
the air for a time, he would sink, still bumping, to the ground, where
he would hitch backward to his place by the tree. Then the latter,
instead of standing as motionless as a rock, showed signs of
restlessness. It would begin by swaying back and forth until it too was
waltz