It was a long and deep sleep which nothing disturbed.  So few human beings ever climbed the hill, except by the narrow rough path leading to the church, that the little wild creatures had not learned to be afraid of them.  Once, during the afternoon, a hare hopping along under the ferns to make a visit stopped by Marco’s head, and, after looking at him a few seconds with his lustrous eyes, began to nibble the ends of his hair.  He only did it from curiosity and because he wondered if it might be a new kind of grass, but he did not like it and stopped nibbling almost at once, after which he looked at it again, moving the soft sensitive end of his nose rapidly for a second or so, and then hopped away to attend to his own affairs.  A very large and handsome green stag-beetle crawled from one end of The Rat’s crutches to the other, but, having done it, he went away also.  Two or three times a bird, searching for his dinner under the ferns, was surprised to find the two sleeping figures, but, as they lay so quietly, there seemed nothing to be frightened about.  A beautiful little field mouse running past discovered that there were crumbs lying about and ate all she could find on the moss.  After that she crept into Marco’s pocket and found some excellent ones and had quite a feast.  But she disturbed nobody and the boys slept on.

It was a bird’s evening song which awakened them both.  The bird alighted on the branch of a tree near them and her trill was rippling clear and sweet.  The evening air had freshened and was fragrant with hillside scents.  When Marco first rolled over and opened his eyes, he thought the most delicious thing on earth was to waken from sleep on a hillside at evening and hear a bird singing.  It seemed to make exquisitely real to him the fact that he was in Samavia—­that the Lamp was lighted and his work was nearly done.  The Rat awakened when he did, and for a few minutes both lay on their backs without speaking.  At last Marco said, “The stars are coming out.  We can begin to climb, Aide-de-camp.”

Then they both got up and looked at each other.

“The last one!” The Rat said.  “To-morrow we shall be on our way back to London—­Number 7 Philibert Place.  After all the places we’ve been to—­what will it look like?”

“It will be like wakening out of a dream,” said Marco.  “It’s not beautiful—­Philibert Place.  But he will be there,” And it was as if a light lighted itself in his face and shone through the very darkness of it.

And The Rat’s face lighted in almost exactly the same way.  And he pulled off his cap and stood bare-headed.  “We’ve obeyed orders,” he said.  “We’ve not forgotten one.  No one has noticed us, no one has thought of us.  We’ve blown through the countries as if we had been grains of dust.”

Marco’s head was bared, too, and his face was still shining.  “God be thanked!” he said.  “Let us begin to climb.”